


I'll Meet You At The Bottom

by TalesOfOnyxBats



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Drug Abuse, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Love Triangles, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Withdrawal, anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 23:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 63
Words: 157,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesOfOnyxBats/pseuds/TalesOfOnyxBats
Summary: Azula is a recovering drug addict & alcoholic. Sokka, who has some new demons of his own, tries to help her work through it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've already posted the finished product on fanfiction.net and will be slowly transferring the rest of the chapters.

Azula sat alone staring at web of scars. They lined her arms and her legs. Some splayed themselves across her belly, and they only seemed to be duplicating. She was twitchy and agitated for a plethora of reasons that were stacking up at a rate that matched her scar count. She retrieved the bottle from her dresser and finished the last of its contents. She found herself absently tracing her thumb along the marks. Each one bore a different tale; each story as troubled as the next and never coming to a happy ending. Never ending at all in fact.

Never ending at all. She grimaced.

She just wanted it to stop. For the hurt and the anguish to fall away.

It didn't matter how so long as the torment ceased.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get it to end. It seemed to her, that the more effort she put into clawing herself back to some semblance of normalcy, back to who she used to be, the further away from her old self she got. She dropped herself onto the mattress and shifted her gaze from her ravaged arms to the ceiling. They—the doctors, Iroh, Zuko—said…no, promised that the further she strayed from her old self, the better off she would be. That she was in critical need of serious introspection. They were so firm in their insistence that she needed to change. But how fast they had turned away when they saw how she changed.

When they spoke of this change—this wonderful metamorphosis, they only accounted for the progressive sort. It hadn't crossed their minds that she could transform in a different, more horrible way. She supposed that they already saw her as someone of the worst sort and didn't see how it was possible for her to grow more so.

Oh, but they didn't know. There was an assortment of ways for her to change for the worst and she'd found nearly all of them.

Azula was still the same unpleasant person she always had been. The unlikeable woman, they pushed to change. Yes, she was very much the same, and yet she had changed, very much so. She was simply a different brand of awful. She had become absolutely deplorable. Perhaps that's why people had stop coming up to check on her. Not for the first time, Azula considered that they made a mistake in caving to her demands. If they would have ignored her fits and rages she would still be locked away and safe in the institution that she loathed so much. No, they freed her and they left her to her own devices where she could destroy herself even more than she had already. She had become a lost cause and stealing glances into the palace garden only reminded her of such.

The day was warm and sunny and Zuko had an expression to match it. How could he not? He was the Fire Lord, his bending was improving tenfold, he had his mother, and he was surrounded by his friends—two of which he'd stolen from her.

And she wasn't there to impede and ruin.

The sound of their laughter didn't carry into her room, but she could hear in anyways. The avatar was always especially chipper. He and TyLee both—between the two of them one would think that nothing was wrong in the world. Azula knew that she would never have that, she wouldn't even be able to attain the slight and soft smile that Katara wore so often.

One of these days she'd be able to bring herself to close the curtains.

.oOo.

Sokka held the paintbrush firmly between his fingers. This time, he would get it right. If he couldn't be a bender then he would master painting. Pushing his tongue out slightly in concentration he completed the final brush stroke.

He took a step back to assess his work and groaned. The landscape looked well enough but Zuko's position was all off and Mai was taller than one of the few trees. It didn't help that they had all been moving. The only person he managed to draw well was his sister, who was—and continued to be—sitting relatively still.

"What's wrong Sokka?" She inquired.

"I can't bend and I suck at painting." He grumbled.

"Let me see it." Katara grinned.

"Oh no." Sokka snatched up his newly finished artwork. "No way."

"Oh, come on, it can't be that awful." Katara rolled her eyes.

"Trust me it is." But he revealed his art regardless, making a point of covering the portion that Mai took up. He wasn't quite ready for Katara to tease him about how awful his perspective was, especially since she was the one who warned him to put care into that aspect in the first place.

"It isn't so bad. You painted an extra finger on Toph though." She chuckled.

Sokka's face went red. "That's not true!" He sputtered. "Let me see." He hastily took his painting back and scanned it for Toph. Katara's swelling giggles alerted him that he'd fallen for it. He was no master artist, but he certainly didn't give Toph a sixth finger. He set the portrait aside, having enough of art for one day. The painting had served its point; it took his mind off of things for a little while. But no distraction ever seemed long enough. With the painting finished he had time to look at it. The longer he looked at it the more apparent it became that there was something missing.

Someone.

All at once he hated the damn thing and how painfully it ended up reminding him that Suki wasn't there. He unfolded the very first group portrait he'd tried to draw. They were all there in the Jasmine Dragon, each doing their own things, the comet freshly behind them. It was an atrocious drawing, but he liked it much more than any of his newer ones. He crumpled up the new painting and hurled it into the pond with a frustrated groan. He flopped onto his back, balled his fists, and held them over his eyes, earning himself a choir of concerned stares.

He couldn't do this again.

He couldn't let himself lose control.

Katara didn't need to see him fall again.

.oOo.

Azula wasn't sure how long she had been staring at the ceiling for, but she knew she ought to stop. She knew she ought to leave her room, to leave her bed, to do anything really. But there were only two…maybe three things she wanted to do. None of which were beneficial in any way. And she wouldn't even have to leave her bed to do any of them.

She forced herself to sit up, her hair coming to fall over her face, with three days' worth of knots and tangles. She rubbed her puffy, tired eyes, supposing it would do her well to get dressed. It's been a while since she'd done that, and yet—despite all intentions of doing so—she still couldn't seem to pull herself out of bed to do it. But she could always find the energy to pour another glass or light another cigarette. Agni forbid she do anything else. Even as she chastised herself for it, she reached over for another cigarette and lit it. The only thing she ever seemed to use her bending for these days.

Indeed, she was damaged and know one knew just how much nor in what way.


	2. Chapter 2

Azula watched the smoke trail towards the ceiling. Once upon a time, it would have been the product of masterful bending. These days it was nothing more than a tired exhale. She ran her fingers through her hair, it was becoming embarrassingly matted. She stole a look out of the window, the sun was quite high. She had slept late, again. Another puff of smoke slid through the part of her lips. Days like such were the days when she would dwell. Dwell on everything that had gone wrong from start to finish. At first she thought that everything started coming undone the day Mai and TyLee had stabbed her in the back. She decided nexst that it was earlier on; when Zuko had decided to skip off and join the avatar. For a while she had genuinely thought that they had some kind of a bond, as far as that kind of thing went with her. But no, he had left and she was left at the lack of mercy of their father. The third time she mulled it over, she considered that it was even earlier than that. And then earlier, and then earlier still. Until she finally concluded that she had set herself up to fall as a mere child, in sparking the relationship between Mai and Zuko. Yes, she decided, she had doomed herself from the start without taking any notice of doing so. So it was that she discarded her first smoke and lit another.

She had only just woken up.

.oOo.

He had been alone for some time now. Katara and Aang having wandered off to a parade of some sort. Toph stayed behind with Zuko, having no interests in the fireworks that would follow when the sun fell. But she had retreated into the palace for a power nap. Zuko himself was wrapped up in the busywork of a Fire Lord. Sokka had the palace garden all to his lonesome, he figured that such was a good set up for another shot at his landscape portraits. He wanted to recapture his passions, the ones he had before losing Suki and this seemed like a golden time to do just that. But more he tried to do it, the less inspiration he had.

The scene truly was quite optimal really with the sun just starting to droop and the sky in pastel shades of pink, orange, and purple. From his position tiny rays filtered through gently fluttering leaves. If he watched long enough he would catching a few of them take flight and then softly drift down and into the pond sending a fresh rings about the surface. He should have enjoyed the moment, it was perfect.

It should have been perfect.

And Agni, did he try to force it to be so. He took his brush to the canvas and told himself that he was having a grade time, that this was going to be the best thing he would paint. He could only force it for so long and the energy he invested in pretending, was leaving him hollower than hours before. His brushstrokes were growing more careless as his boredom rose. Suddenly he hated trees, hated drawing them, hated the sight of them. But he continued working the brush anyhow, only faintly aware that he was doing so. He couldn't keep his attention on the canvas, even as he stared at it, his mind's eye had a different visual for him; Suki reaching out, her face contorted in anger and anguish. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was tired of painting trees and grasses, neither subject did anything to take his mind away from Suki. To keep him from reliving the moment everything began coming in shades of grey. He could clearly see that way her fingers curled around his shirt, her mouth poised in a scream that had yet to be released.

He blinked.

Hard.

Forgetting about the brush in his hand, ran it over his face—leaving an unnoticed trail of black paint from his chin to his hairline. He couldn't be assed to wipe it away, even if he did, it would only smear. He tore his unfinished piece from the canvas, having every urge to kick it over completely. The impulse only subsided at the sight of Zuko and a party of rather esteemed looking individuals trekking the length of the garden.

He looked towards the roof and blew out a forced exhale. He took another deep breath, hoping to expel whatever anger had just bubbled up. He needed something, anything to keep him going. He took to studying every spoke and spire of the palace. Maybe he should paint that? It wasn't a tree and the sun was reflecting quite well in the widows. He peered at the dragons accenting each corner of the tiered roof. Glanced at the golden trim around the window frames and gutters. He dwelled upon what little he could make of the interior from his place outside; a serving girl scrubbing at the window sill, Toph just rising from her nap with a drawn out yawn, Ursa and Iroh engaged in conversation over cups of tea, a young boy—likely the son of one of the staff members—teetering about the room. He opted to leave them out of the painting, they would be too hard to capture. Too frustrating, they were too active.

He was set to tear his gaze from the palace and retrieve his tools when he came to gaze upon a face he hadn't seen in ages. It was different, more sullen. More hollow, just about as empty as he felt. She stood at the window sill with her lips pressed in a thin line and her hands clasped behind her back. She stood in the light of the setting sun, but wasn't taking in any light at all. From such a distance he couldn't gauge one emotion or another, but whatever expression she was wearing, he couldn't imagine that it was a pleasant one. He watched her sweep a curtain of thick, dark hair over her shoulder. And with that lazy flick, her back was turned and she was retreating deeper into her bedroom.

Sokka wondered if she'd noticed him staring.

.oOo.

That night was a slight change of pace; from somewhere she'd found a small burst of energy and she supposed she'd make the most of it. Though it took some more preparation, she forced herself down the hallway and into the bathroom. She hadn't the motivation to beckon one of her servants over so she slipped out of her robe and arranged her own bath. Making small talk would have been tiresome anyhow, she couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken to anyone aside from herself and those who weren't actually in the room. At least her smokes seemed to dull them…mostly. When they didn't, the hallucinations came on stronger than they had been prior. Azula was content to let that detail remain under the carpet.

The princess scrubbed at her arms. Perhaps a little too hard, she assessed after noticing the pink hue to her skin. She tried to tell herself that she had only been trying to make up for the lack of baths she'd taken. But she couldn't lie to herself in the same way she lied to others. She wanted to cause herself discomfort, however slight the unease was. The pinker patch stood out noticeably. She held her arm in front of her face—when had she become so pale? She shuddered in spite of herself.

She had undeniably grown pale. Paler and thinner. Azula tried to brush it off but as she continued to drag the soap over her frame the truth made a point of flashing in her face. She took note of a slight dip as she ran the bar over her midsection. Fleetly she thought that she ought to start taking better care of herself again. How could she firebend if she were to become so frail, so breakable? She could very nearly seen each of her ribs. She drew her legs up to her chest, staring at her arms. They had become practically translucent. Alongside a generous meal, the woman decided that the bath she was sitting in wasn't the only one she needed; she could use a healthy dose of sunbathing. It was only right for a firebender to be out in the heat of a summer afternoon. Before then, she hadn't noticed any of it and the new insight left her feeling vaguely alarmed.

Startled, but not enough to get anywhere beyond simply contemplating a change. No, she had enough of change. Somehow, she came to conclude that she'd rather keep on this dangerous path than go through another dramatic transformation. Turning away from that which had rattled her, she wrapped her fingers around a large vial of shampoo and then around one of conditioner. She would have to act quick before the motivation left her. She was more than apprehensive about working with the weeks of knots in her hair. But she did so anyways, conjuring up some visage of the woman who had been willing to face down any obstacle regardless of height or strength. That willingness was slowly dispelling as the knots fought against her.

Eventually the task became too cumbersome but she continued scrubbing the shampoo into her hair. A task made infinitely more difficult by just how tightly wrought each lock of hair had become to the one next to it. She clenched her teeth, her frustration officially reaching peak levels. Why was it so hard to do something so simple? She needed a drink. Badly. It hadn't occurred to her just how hard her nails were scratching at her scalp until a few sharp pangs erupted. Shivering lightly, she let her arms fall back into the now dirty water. For a moment she sat rigid, breathing, just breathing. Long and shuddering breaths. But the frustration didn't subside whatsoever.

Before Azula realized what she was doing, she was on her feet, edging menacingly towards the mirror. With an almost feral snarl, she took a pair of scissors into her grasp. With her chest heaving quite rapidly, she made the first few slashes.

At least, she wouldn't have to worry about her hair getting matted again.

Doing nothing to cloth nor cover herself in the slightest, the princess stormed back into her room. That oughta have people talking. With the door shut behind her she doubled over in a burst of uncanny laughter. It was hilarious, she didn't know why, but it just was. It took some time for the laughing fit to pass and by the time it did the princess was on her back, feeling number than before.

And her chuckles turned to dry sobs.

Azula absolutely needed something to take the edge off. On all fours she scrambled to her bedside to reach for another light and she hated herself for it.

Agni, she hated herself.

.oOo.

The courtyard was dressed in moonlight. All those hours gone by and Sokka only managed the outline of half of the palace. Now it was too dark for him to finish even if he wanted to. He hadn't the expertise to paint the palace from memory alone. Even so, he decided that he hated painting the palace just as much as the trees in front of it. He groaned to himself. It was all bullshit, it was all bullshit. How had something he loved turned so sour? It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't about how his old favorite hobby made him feel.

No, it was what it no longer made him feel.

It was the absence of Suki's hands on his shoulders as he made final touches. The lack of the suggestions she whispered in his ears. The critiques that led to heated arguments that led to the bedroom…

Sokka gulped and looked back at his canvas. He needed to find a way to enjoy it again. But it seemed like nothing was worth painting these days. He shifted his eyes from the canvas to the palace again. Through the window he could see the silhouettes of Aang and Katara getting ready for bed, Zuko wrapping up his work and blowing his candle out, the servants hustling to ready his bed. The palace was alive and with all the energy it ever had. He then himself inexplicably obliged to give Azula's window some attention. Maybe he was just curious. Perhaps he was looking to see someone in as much or more distress than he. Or it could have been that he didn't expect to see anything at all so it didn't matter.

But he did see something. An unfamiliar figure peering through the glass. Her nightgown was disheveled and loosely tied with little interest. Her hair, reaching just below her ears, was fell in a similar state of care. Between her fingers she held an elaborate kiseru, from which rose a lazy trail of smoke. Sokka wondered who she was and what she was doing in Azula's bedroom. It took him a considerable span of time to gather that this woman was the princess. Even from such a distance he could tell that her gaze was sharp, even though she was staring at nothing in particular.

Sokka considered then, that Azula wasn't well. Not by any means. He couldn't place it, but there was something about her sudden alteration in appearance that unsettled him. This only left him more ashamed to admit that his first thought was that he had found a subject to paint.


	3. Chapter 3

Sokka hadn't seen her at the window since that night but the image of her was imprinted in his mind. Even so he crafted a quick sketch just to make sure that the image stayed vivid. His brush work still wasn't up to par but he had a newfound determination to make it so. Not exactly masterful with backgrounds yet, he simply spread a layer of black over most of the background, leaving only enough white to expose the border—which he decided would serve as the window frame. He filled that white space with gold paint. It looked decent enough, but such was easy to say when one was only working with two colors and a simple pattern. Even so, something seemed missing, lackluster. He decided to add a little texture, hoping that it would add a little something. At the same time, he feared that it would be hard to add the second layer of paint if he did. With a brief moment of reluctance to precede, he began dabbing a cloth at the canvas. Every good artist would have to take a risk at some point, he figured that he might as well start early.

It would take an hour, at least, to dry. Sokka set the brush down and starched his arms. He was thankful for how well just that portion of the painting had taken his mind off of things. If he would have known, he may have taken to painting portraits earlier on.

"How's your painting coming along?" Katara asked, she squinted at the gold framed black square. "What are you painting?"

The innocent inquiry took the man by surprise. "I…uhhh…" Sokka stammered. He hadn't even thought to come up with a clever lie, but he certainly wasn't going to let anyone know that he was painting Azula. "It…it's an abstract piece."

"You're pretty flustered for just painting an 'abstract piece'." Toph put in.

"W-well look at it." Sokka motioned frantically to the painting, the color in his cheeks only spreading more. "Does it even seem abstract? It's stupid just like every other thing I've tried to paint." He hadn't quite meant to beat himself up like that, but it was much better than coming out with the truth.

"It's not that bad." Aang shrugged. "You just started it after all."

Katara nodded, "It'll probably look great after you add some more color and splotches and… artsy stuff."

"Yeah. Artsy stuff." Sokka agreed, instantly flooded with relief.

"I think you should add different shades." Zuko suggested as he crossed the grass. "Maybe add some greys or something."

Sokka rubbed the back of his head, "thanks for the suggestion but it might be a bit too late for that." Truth be told he wasn't sure if he was correct; the paint might still be wet enough for him to do so, but one artistic leap of fate was enough for one day. He looked back at his canvas, he was itching to fill it. Right then it was as empty as the real window frame.

.oOo.

Azula looked at the powder sitting atop her dresser. She'd seen Chan use it before, he said it was a real trip and was kind enough to slip her some. She told herself that she had only accepted it to feel the kick of adrenaline, knowing just how much trouble it could bring if she got busted. And when that didn't work she convinced herself that she had accepted the mystery substance to prove to herself that she wouldn't actually inhale it. But as it sat undisturbed it became increasingly difficult to resist. She did go through the trouble of sneaking out of her room and into the palace dinner party to retrieve it, after all. Not to mention she was already hooked, what was one more thing?

She had her fingers around the pouch containing it when there came a knock on the door. She hissed a quick, "fuck" and tossed it under the dresser. She made a point of loudly approaching the door, in hopes that the person on the other side would decide not to barge right in. She had her hand on the knob, poised to twist it, but decided against doing so. "Leave me." She demanded, entirely uninterested in uncovering the identity of her visitor.

"Would you like me to leave your food at the door?"

Her lip curled back, the last thing she needed was for one of her servants to nose around and out her, "of course I would!" She spat. "Have I ever invited you in before?"

She heard the rustle of cloth and then a stiff and uncertain, "well…no."

"Well then..." She rolled her eyes.

Azula could picture the man bowing. She heard a soft clatter and waited for the footfalls to grow distant before poking her head out and fetching a plate of dumplings that she wasn't actually hungry for. She ate one or two regardless and went straight back to her initial conundrum. She felt under the dresser for the pouch, by the time it was in her hand, her fingers were tainted with dust.

She stared at it for some more time, admitting that she didn't know how much she could inhale at one time without hurting herself. She looked at her arms and remembered that she didn't care. With a final burst of hesitation, she opened the pouch—thanking and cursing Chan all in the same sniff.

.oOo.

Sokka carefully swept a finger over the bottom right of his painting. Upon inspection, his finger had come up clean. It hadn't taken as much time as he thought for the painting to dry. He was both nervous and thrilled to continue. He took a seat, deciding that it would do him well to actually plan his next line of attack he could just do everything in one more layer or he could have third. He rubbed his chin, staring at the canvas as if it would tell him what it wanted him to do.

Picking up his brush, he had at last made his decision. He created a blend of color white and brown—more heavy on the brown. He stuck his lip out, that mixture wasn't right. It was much too dark, he was painting Azula, not Katara. His second attempt was just as unfulfilling, this time it was to loaded with white. He was about to mix a third when he recalled the look of the princess while she stood at the window in broad daylight. No, he realized, he had created a quite accurate blend. It would have been too light a year or so back, but as things were, he had it just right. He put his brush to the canvas, hoping that his hand could recreate the image that clung so heavily in his mind.

Minutes bled into hours and he scarcely noticed the rumble of his stomach nor the call of his bladder. It wasn't until Katara offered him a moon peach that he finally turned form his work. "That's not bad at all." She noted as she tossed the fruit at him. "You choose a very light tone for the skin. I would suggest adding some color."

It took a degree of willpower to bite his tongue and not inform her that he was going for accuracy. He truly wanted to, but Sokka had no desire to answer the questions that would follow. So instead he replied, "I don't want to waste all of my brown paint."

Katara laughed. "I'm sure Zuko would be willing to buy you some more."

"You're probably right." He agreed, "though I'm sort of hoping to be done with this layer tonight."

"You can't rush art, Sokka." Aang gave his input.

"Hey, you guys want to see my painting?" Toph asked. "I call it, The Orange Hand. I made it with my own hand."

Sokka almost didn't' want to tell her. But he did, "Toph, that hand is pink."

"Oh." Toph muttered. "I knew that."

"I'm sure." Sokka agreed sarcastically. He turned back to his own artwork. He supposed he could add a bit more brown in some places. It would give it a more life like quality. "Say Katara, from that window," he took special care to point to the window next to Azula's, "how do you think the light would fall on her face?"

"It depends on the time of day." Katara replied.

"How about during sundown." Sokka replied.

Katara moved closer to the painting. "Now don't get mad if this is off, because I'm really just guessing." She mumbled as she indicated to the places where she though he could add a little bit of darkness. "Hey, wait a minute! Didn't you say that this was an abstract painting?"

Sokka was thankful for his turned back, he was flustered all over again. "I changed my mind. I couldn't come up with anything good. Anyone can splatter paint on a canvas and call it art, you know?" Inwardly he scolded himself for being so careless, he was never good at secret keeping.

"Who are you painting?" Katara asked the question he dreaded.

"No one really, I mean I haven't decided yet." He hoped that he wasn't stammering again. "I might try to make up my own character."

"You should give her a cool tattoo! Like Sparky Boom Man's!"

"Thanks for the suggestion, Toph. But I don't think I've had enough practice for painting tattoos like that." For a good while his friends watched him paint, it only made him a little squeamish. By the time they retreated back into the palace, he put his brush down and looked at what he had done so far.

It was awkward at first to only have a naked figure on the canvas, knowing exactly who it would morph into. But until it dried enough for him to add a layer of clothing, it would remain that way.

.oOo.

"Hey! Boy, where are you going?" Came a sharp demand.

Azula looked around but the voice seemed to be coming from everywhere and it wouldn't stop echoing. She shrugged and continued her stroll. The hallways were buzzing with energy, that tossed flashes of blue and purple that ping-ponged from one end to the next. She could feel the energy vibrating her to her very core. She was reaching out to catch one of those energy orbs when a hand fell roughly on her shoulder.

"Are you listening to me, boy. We have a palace to guard."

She turned to stare at the man grasping her shoulder. She might have come to deduce that it was Xanu, the head of the royal guard, had his face not distorted before her eyes. At first it was quite comical—he had the face of the avatar's bison—and then it shifted into something more disturbing. For a moment his skin seemed to be sagging right off, and then he had his real face.

"You may be one of our new recruits, but there will still be punishment for slacking…"

The man very clearly had her pegged for someone else. Before that moment, she had snuck into her father's old bedroom and borrowed one of his suits of armor. Or at least that's what she though she'd done, as it were, she had actually acquired herself one of the guard uniforms. Of course, with the powder well and snorted, it didn't take much to convince her that she was going to get fired for messing around on the job.

"I'm not slacking."

Xanu pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself. "I told them not to hire these boys. Half of em ain't even hit puberty yet. How am I supposed to make sure they're all on track?"

Azula elaborated. "I'm very job at my good, actually. I'm exploring because I have to make sure the palace knows me inside and out in case I need to evacuate without being saw."

Xanu blinked. "Are you alright, boy?"

It also didn't take any effort for him to have her convinced that the powder had transformed her into a pre-pubescent boy. Azula brought a hand to her breasts, unable to actually feel them beneath the armor she decided that she must not have any. It wasn't until he grabbed her wrist that the panic set in, she didn't want to talk to other people. She had to get back to her room before someone found out that she had put the powder to use.

The misfortunate head of guards wasn't expecting to have a swift blow delivered to his privets, so when she delivered it he put up no fight. Seeing him crumple to the ground instilled a new fear in Azula. If she was a man now she would have to take extra care not to let that happen to her. Unfortunately for the princess, the energy orbs now seemed completely hellbent on giving her a dose of karma. She leapt up and down to doge the balls of light, occasionally having to fling herself up close and personal with the wall. Xanu watched the display with morbid fascination, deciding once and for all that he wouldn't allow any boy or girl under fifteen join the palace guard.

The hall seemed much narrower to Azula who was creeping along it. She found tears in the walls where none used to be. From those crevices dripped a steady flow of glitter and mud, if she didn't hurry she would find herself drowning within it. Her stomach churned, she had to find her way back to her room but all of the doors looked the same a perfect mirror of the one next to it. The image of each door seemed to reflect endlessly down a hallway that didn't cease. She found herself dizzy, the hall now tilting at some odd, disorienting angle. She stumbled, as the carpet seemed to roll like waves beneath her. On all fours, she hustled to the first of the doors and pushed it open. It wasn't her room, but it was a room, one that didn't see many guests. So she would wait it out there. Alone in a dark room where the orbs of energy elongated into shadowy fingers that poked and prodded at her. Alone in the dark where a dozen voices seemed to holler incoherently at her.

She bunched herself up in the corner furthest from the door and clasped her hands over her ears. It was too loud, everything was too loud. But at least these voices didn't scream her shames. In fact, they seemed to drown out the ones that did. Even so, the sheer volume had her letting herself flop to the floor on her side. The world continued to swirl and blur until she couldn't make anything out. The colors were all wrong there was purple where there was supposed to be red and gold where there was supposed to be blue. She could see the shape of a hand rising between her ribs and on that hand was the shape of another smaller one. They threatened to burst out and split her skin. And when she looked at her arm she could have sworn that her own hand was gone. The furniture in the room swelled, seeming much larger than it ought to have been. The entirety of the room spun faster. She wanted it to stop. Oh, Agni, she needed it to end.

Not for the first time, Azula found herself isolated and horrified.

Just what had she put herself through this time?

Just what would she continue to put herself though?


	4. Chapter 4

Sokka grumbled to himself. He had screwed up big time and now he was going to have to start all over. He ran his hands through his hair, in his frustration the motion was a tad to rough and had him wincing when he'd managed to pluck a few strands from his head.

Hair.

The source of all of his pain and woes that morning.

It was hair that had started his day all wrong. The hair wasn't real of course, it was…or would have been a painted replica of it. He looked at the figure on the canvas, just as he had left it a few days ago. He was embarrassed to say that he hadn't yet come up with a work around. He cursed himself for painting the background black, knowing very well that Azula had locks of the same color. His blunder had an upside though, in trying to work around this mistake Sokka's mind was very far from Suki and the collection of demons that came with thinking about her. Yes, he decided, he had made a good choice in trying to paint the fire princess. Now if only he could figure out how to fix the hair situation.

"You seem stuck." Katara looked up from her book.

"Why would you think that?" Sokka asked.

"I don't think I've seen you add a drop of paint since you finished layer two."

"Yeah well, I want her hair to be black…" he quickly added, "since she's going to be a firebender." He tapped the stick end of his brush on the canvas. "But I kind of already painted the whole background black."

"That's an easy fix Sokka, you're over thinking it." Katara laughed. "Just add a hint of brown to the black paint."

"What is with you and adding brown?" Sokka threw his hands up.

"Brown is a useful color." She shrugged.

"I guess." He replied. Truth be told he was a little disappointed. He wanted her hair to be a glossy jet black, but he supposed adding a touch of brown—again—would have to do. He supposed it was just as well, at least if he was discovered, the brown hue to her hair would be another deceitful indicator that he wasn't painting Azula. "Anyways," he made a point of shuffling back in front of his painting, so to obscure it from Katara's view. "I'm gonna get back to it."

"Why so secretive?" Katara chuckled.

"Well I don't want anyone to see it if it looks awful." Sokka lied.

Katara rolled her eyes. "Okay, I can take a hint." She stood up and collected her book. "I suppose I should see how Aang is doing.

Sokka was hit with an immediate sense of guilt. He hadn't meant to drive her away…

Okay so that had been the goal. But he truly hadn't minded the company. Despite the light-hearted nature of his sister's departure he was left with a bitter aftertaste. Was he already becoming the cranky hermit artist he always used to joke about. Rather, was he falling back into that pattern. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, he'd already been there once…

With a new thing to rid his mind of, he put his focus back on the painting with more intensity than ever.

.oOo.

Azula could barely get out of bed, she was shaky all over and with a dull drumming behind her eyes. She let herself flop back onto her mattress. With a feeling of dread tickling her belly, she realized that she couldn't even remember actually climbing back into bed. With all of her soul, she pleaded with the spirits that it was she who'd done it on her own. And that she hadn't been found twitching and screaming by one of the palace guards—or worse, her mother—and carried to bed. Considering no one was pounding at her door nor looming in the corner awaiting for her to achieve full alertness, she felt rather safe in saying she'd managed to get herself to bed.

Her mouth was terribly dry and calling for her to attain water. She had every intention of listening, but as her hand reached for the glass she hadn't finished the night before—opting to drink more cactus juice instead—she spied the small pouch. And she was staring at it again, that reddish hued dust. There was a lot she didn't know about it; its origins, how Chan had gotten ahold of it, how much she could take in one sitting without risking too much, the plant in which it was derived from, and if it came from a plant at all. For all she knew she could be inhaling residue from one of the many war factories. The list of uncertainties went on and on. She knew very well that it was unwise to fight in uncharted territory and to tread carefully if she decided to do so anyhow. She supposed that her newly obtained powder was much the same. The only thing she knew of it was that Chan called it, Dragon's Breath or sometimes Dragon Dust to throw people off. If he really wanted to muddy the trail he would call it Ruby Tears. All of which were very enticing, pretty names for something so risky. If it were up to Azula she'd refer to it as Dragon's Eye, she certainly felt like she had been given a new sight—a sight that was to powerful for her body, which now seemed so small, at that.

She also assessed that it must be a potent drug. Must be? She revaluated, no it was clearly potent, that was for sure. She'd only taken a pinch last night and it had sent her into what may as well have been the dimension over. She was lucky she'd only taken a tester for her first time.

Azula closed her eyes, trying to remember just what she'd done the night before. Her cheeks flushed as the memories filtered in. She dropped back down onto the mattress and draped an arm over her eyes. No doubt, she'd made an idiot of herself and was thankful that she had been mistaken for a little boy—as degrading as that was. Not that she deserved anything else, she had and was planning on continuing to put herself in a lowly place.

She sat back up and tossed the pouch from one hand to the other, pondering whether or not she truly wanted to give it a second go. The answer was obvious, of course she didn't want to; it would be foolish and self-destructive. But Agni, her body, was already yearning for it. And she cursed it for its weakness. But then, her mind was growing meek too and seemed to crave it just as much.

Reluctantly, as if to justify to herself what she was about to do, she deduced that the only reason her trip had been so awful was because she'd downed a good portion of cactus juice to go with it.

Indeed, she was demeaning herself. As far as she was concerned abuse of this nature was reserved for the peasant class, those who needed an extra kick to get by since they had nothing else. She'd never seen a royal nor noble hooked on what she was. Then again, she hadn't known another person of high birth to have little as she. She hadn't known a royal to have all the pieces in place for them and still fail as splendidly as she did.

Without any further thought, and in a burst of anger, she tore the pouch open and dumped a larger portion onto her dresser. Agni, what a sight she was; hair a mess, robe undone, and hunched over her dresser sniffing up the powder like her life depended on it. She was horrible, truly horrible.

.oOo.

Sokka beamed from ear to ear. It was going much better than he expected. Despite the dash of brown, she still looked very much like how he'd seen her at the window. In fact, he thought it made more sense. After all, he had told Katara that his painting was set during sundown. It only made sense that the sun would cast a lighter hue on her hair. For once, something he was doing just seemed to have come together for him! Of course, black still probably wasn't an optimal choice for the background of a room during sunset. But this was a good day so he would cut himself some slack, he was still a beginner, these things would come to him in due time.

As was becoming a habit, neglected to wash his hand before wiping a bead of sweat off of his cheek. In its place he left a healthy smear of brown. He still hadn't gotten to painting her face yet… nor her clothing for that matter, which was even more awkward now that he had her hair on there. She was looking more like Azula, but with less clothes. His face grew hot at the thought, he shook his head. He would not think about Azula like that, he could practically feel her reaching through the canvas to slap him.

He looked towards her window, wondering what the real Azula was up to. Probably something more entertaining and important than some silly painting. He shrugged to himself, at least he had a hobby now. A few months ago he couldn't even bring himself to pretend to enjoy things like hunting and talking with friends. He smiled wider know that just a few days ago he nearly found himself back there, and prided himself on turning it around this time. With a new spark of energy he decided that he would finish painting her face.

Invested so heavily in his work he didn't realize just how long it had been. "Hey, I thought you'd like to join us for dinner." Zuko invited.

Sokka started, nearly dropping his paint brush. He whistled out a relieved breath, "you're lucky I had the brush away from the canvas!"

"Sounds like you're the lucky one." Zuko laughed.

"Which means you are too, I would have smeared all of this paint," he motioned to his palette, "on you if you caused me to mess my painting up."

"Spoken like a true uppity artisan." Zuko joked. "That looks nice so far, btw."

Sokka jolted again, another bought of pink coming to his cheeks. He really had to start being more careful especially this far into his work. He would invest in a more private area painting spot the next day, he was painting from memory anyhow, since his subject still hadn't made another appearance.

"Wow, Katara's right, you really are defensive of your art. I don't know why, it looks great." He repeated.

At first Sokka couldn't place where the sinking feeling had come from. He considered for the first time, that Zuko didn't know about Azula's haircut. That was probably the only thing that saved him from getting busted. And for the first time, he considered just how lonely Azula might be. If Zuko didn't know what she was up to, did anyone? It sent pangs through his heart.

He eyed the portrait with a new emotion. He had painted Azula with a gaze as sharp as the woman he'd known long ago and accompanied that stare with a more neutral curve to her lips—firm and serious. He had considered that the real woman might be wearing a look of distress or despair.

"Thanks." Sokka said at last.

He wasn't particularly listening to what Zuko said after and he may have cut the fire lord off in asking, "hey, how has your sister been, anyways?" He hoped it sounded as nonchalant and unsuspecting as he intended.

The sudden widening of his eyes, indicated that Sokka had caught him off guard. "Well…she…I'm not quite sure…" he trailed off, confirming Sokka's suspicions that his friend had no idea. "She's…"

"Lonely?" Sokka filled in.

"Maybe, I guess." Zuko replied. "I figured that if she wanted to talk to us, she would come and do it. So I just leave her alone, it's better to keep your distance with her. She doesn't seem to like the company when we give it to her."

You didn't either, Sokka almost said, but we gave it to you anyways. Instead he replied. "Maybe she's just bad at asking for it."

A sullenness came over him. "Maybe." Something told Sokka that Zuko, as good hearted as he was, wouldn't be reaching out any time soon. Not that Sokka could hold it against him; Azula wasn't the easiest person to get along with. In fact, Sokka was willing to bet that she was one of the hardest.

She had caused him so much pain before, yet painting her had given him a much needed breath of life. It was strange how the woman who had once been the source of all of his woes, was the one helping to build him back up. Unbeknownst to her, of course. And perhaps that's why he made a mental note to take a break from his painting and pay her a visit.

Not that he knew it, but, the woman sobbing and shaking in the corner of her room could use the visit.


	5. Chapter 5

She regretted the look she spared the mirror. She was decaying at a rapid pace at that, and she couldn't seem to stop it. She had grown thinner still, her face looking gaunt and as hollow as her eyes. Her hair had lost much of its gloss and some of its color and fell carelessly lacking the volume it used to display. Her eyes too, seemed faded in color and were accented with bags much deeper than the last time she had looked. But none of this disturbed the princess quite as much as the discoloration; her skin wasn't just pale anymore, it had taken on an almost bruised, yellow appearance in spots. For the first time in a long time she was afraid, truly, undeniably frightened. Azula was killing herself, even as the thought crossed her mind she took another slow and steady drag from her kiseru, watching the smoke billow up and away from her. With the instrument in hand she took to pacing about the room.

Her second trip had been as frightening as the first. Just like the first time it started off well enough; she felt light and weightless. Her body seemed to have been trailing behind her as she walked in circles around her room. She remembered seeing trails of light where she had walked and so she had kept going and going, wandering in the same circle. At first those little lines of light were soothing, they sang to her in tones she'd never heard before, they sang backwards. They said kind things to her, the praises she missed hearing. So she continued her rotation around the room. After sometime she had created a whirlwind, that's when it had turned for the worse. The voices of the light circle had become patronizing, yelling at her to stop fucking around and do something useful for a change. She recalled vividly, that the circle had closed in on her, backing her into a corner as each nasty word fell up on her. Somehow she had been able to feel physically the weight of them, it had pressed on her chest and made it hard to breathe. She recalled begging the circle to let her leave, to let her go back to the world she'd left. But it wouldn't let her, she couldn't seem to go back. This had left her feeling all the more terrible. The worst of it though, Azula recalled, was the fear. The fear of some intangible force that seemed to be all around her. It blanketed her oppressively like the tongue of a dragon ready to swallow her down. It reminded her all too much of the inexplicable paranoia she'd experienced before Sozin's comet.

Azula ran a hand through her hair, the first time it had only lasted for an hour or so. The night before it lasted much longer. It seemed to be bleeding into the morning too, for she could swear that she still heard a snide remark or two whispering from within the empty flower pot on her nightstand. Without thinking, she threw it against the wall taking satisfaction in hearing the pieces clatter and click against the floor. She took in a few heavy breaths, but the anxiety wasn't easing up at all. If anything, she was feeling more edgy than before. She added more tobacco to the kiseru, hoping that it would calm her frenzied nerves.

.oOo.

Sokka's canvas was tucked safely away in his room, but this time he wouldn't remove it from it's place. He promised himself that he would visit Azula, and he was going to commit to that. Even though she had no idea that she helped him out, he felt as though he owed it to her to try to pay her the same respect. Of course a nice, hot, Fire Nation breakfast was first on the agenda.

"You're eating fast today." Katara noted.

"I always do." Sokka shrugged in between mouthfuls of eggs.

"Faster than normal." Katara added. "You must be eager to get back to your art."

"Something like that." Sokka replied. Truth be told, his stomach was actually very queasy. He kept forgetting that Azula may not be as eager to receive and unexpected visit as he was to be the visitor. He chewed his eggs a bit slower, suddenly feeling reluctant about his plan. With an unfinished plate he stood up, figuring that it would be best to just get it over with before he lost every bit of his nerve.

"You gonna finish that?" Toph pointed.

"Nah, you can have the rest." Sokka replied.

"Sweet."

If nothing else, he could say that he made Toph's morning that much brighter. He took a deep breath and made his way up the stairs. The whole time he grumbled to himself about how stupidly complex and large the palace was. He wanted desperately to ask one of the guards to point him in the direction of Azula's room. But for the life of him, he couldn't find a good excuse for needing the information. No, he was on his own. After giving it some thought, Sokka decided he would start on the topmost floor, that was where Zuko's bedroom was. From there, he wandered aimlessly for some time, knocking on countless doors. But he was more than content with that, occupying himself with saying, "sorry, wrong room" to the few people that answered his knocks kept his mind from thinking about who he was about to visit. He knew it would do him well to prepare some dialogue, but that only made him all the wearier. He was near the end of the hall, and his spirits were beginning to fall, but he rasped on the next door anyhow.

"I don't recall asking for company." The voice on the other side was muffled by the door and he knew he'd found the right one. With one obstacle out of the way, he came to face his next; getting the princess to open the door.

He thought of lying. He could tell her that he was serving her breakfast, but he didn't want to face the fury that would come with her finding him instead of her meal. He was taking too long, not that the woman behind the door seemed to care. "I thought I'd give you some anyways." He blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Wonderful, show yourself back down the hall." Azula muttered. "I don't want it."

"Maybe you need it though." He dared to suggest.

With each moment that passed in silence, it became increasingly obvious that Azula wasn't going to dignify that with a response. Feeling frustrated and rather ballsy Sokka set his hand upon the door knob and gave it a twist. His annoyance wavered when the door fell open, surprised came to fill its place. Either she assumed that no one would dare enter without her say so or she had simply forgotten to lock it. Given her paranoid state the last time he'd seen Azula, he was willing to bet on the latter. And that disturbed him more than the former—it wasn't like the princess to be forgetful. He stole a brief glace about the room, prompting more knots to twist in his belly. There was clutter, not a wild amount by any means, but clutter no less. He could see a few pieces of paper on and maybe a bottle or two. He didn't get to observe much beyond that though. His rear collided with the carpet. A swift blow, but it lacked the punch that her bending usually did, it seemed to him like she couldn't be bothered to exert anymore force than just enough. He supposed he should be thankful, on a normal day he would have collided with the door across from her room. But the blow served its purpose and the door was as it was before his arrival. This time he heard a click and a slide and he knew he wouldn't be stealing another peek at the inside. He groaned and ran a hand over his face, that had to have been the most pathetic attempt to visit someone that had even been tried. Still he lingered in the area, occasionally if he strained his ears enough, he would catch the sound of Azula shuffling about the room. He edged closer to the door, touching its exquisite surface. He traced his fingers over the gold dragon etchings.

Sokka listened again; the faint thud of something being thrown, the rustle of paper, a scraping sound, and another soft slam. Each sound causing him a small start. He backed away as Azula seemed to draw nearer. She must have been standing directly in front of the door, for he could see the shadow of her feet under the crack of the door.

He turned his back abruptly and pretended to walk away. At the distancing of her footsteps, it was no longer make believe. There was another sound and he came to a halt. He hadn't expected it at all, but the princess was standing in the door frame. Perhaps she truly was as desperate for company as he anticipated. Without any sort of gesture, she disappeared back into her room. With the door left gaping, he assumed that, that was his invitation. He took a deep breath and entered, taking an extra moment to lock the door behind him.

The slight untidiness he'd been exposed to at first glance was now neatly organized, or at the very least, hidden away. It would seem that he would never know what the firebender had neglected to clean before his arrival, he knew that he wasn't supposed to have seen it at all which only accented his shock in being invited in. That shock increased tenfold when he finally had the guts to look up; Azula herself seemed to still be in a disheveled state. She lay upon her bed, making no attempt at conversation. Her eyes were half-dilated, seeming almost glassy. There was a thin film of sweat forming at her hairline, that she wiped away periodically. The princess seemed ill.

"Should I call for a doctor?" He asked without thinking.

"No!" She snapped sharply.

He really needed to stop speaking so impulsively around her. She didn't want company at all, much less a physician inspecting and jabbing at her. He quickly apologized for the silly suggestion. She was back to her uncomfortable quiet, leaving him more time to pass by awkwardly taking her appearance in. He assessed that unkempt was the wrong descriptor, the woman looked completely neglected. Her frame was smaller than when he'd seen her last at the widow a little over a week ago—or maybe it was because he had stared from a distance that he didn't realize how small she'd gotten. Somewhere deep down he knew that, that wasn't the case. She looked so tired, so worn.

"You alright?" He asked. It was just another question she wouldn't dignify with a response. But she did take to glaring at him like he was an imbecile of the most complete sort. He thought to take her hand but didn't fancy the idea of taking another mild bolt of lightning. "Do you want to know why I decided to come here today?"

"No."

"Do you even want me here?" He tried.

"No."

"Are you going to kick me out?"

There was another prolonged silence as she seemed to turn the question over in her mind. And then she replied, "no."

At the rate the conversation was going, he wouldn't be able to count on his fingers the number of times she'd said no. He ran his hand through his hair, unsure what to do. I expected her to put up a fight, to call him nasty things, or to snub him altogether. That he was prepared for, he knew how to handle it. But this, whatever it was, left him completely puzzled. So, just like he had come into her room despite getting tazed, he began to speak. "I've been having trouble painting lately." He paused, giving her time to utter a, 'good for you'. When it didn't come he continued, "believe it or not you kind of helped me out with that." Just as he said it, he regretted it. He realized that he had no desire to tell her that he'd been painting her, he couldn't imagine that she'd want a portrait of herself in this state—however healthier she looked on the canvas. Just as she hadn't filled in his pause, she didn't ask him to elaborate. "So, thanks, I guess." He successfully downplayed his enthusiasm.

"Do you want me to paint something for you?" He tried a different approach.

Azula sighed—a very deep, drawn out sound. "No." She seemed to look longingly at her dresser.

He noticed for the first time, that she was wearing the same robe he'd seen her in last. It chilled him to the core, solidifying his theory that she was not okay by any means. Following that semi-subtle clue, he inquired. "Do you want me to get you something different to wear?" This time he was met with another abrupt, "no!" He couldn't possibly assess what warranted such harshness. He lifted his hands up in a mock surrender, considering that maybe she was just getting annoyed with his steady stream of questions. But he asked one more "Do you want me to do, anything?" He was saying it in his head with her, "no." He looked across the bed at Azula, who once again seemed completely uninterested…absent He squinted, thinking that it was more than that, but he couldn't quite place what that might be. No matter what the case, something was terribly amiss with the princess. And despite it all, he wanted to help fix that something. Agni knew he needed the fixing, and he was so thankful that he had gotten it before he ended up like…

Like the woman laying mere inches away from him.

"Do you want me to come back tomorrow?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

She surprised him again. "Yes."

He saw it flicker across her face, a terrible loneliness with a touch of apprehension. He shared that trepidation, he would make good on his offer, but was afraid of what he was going to come across now that he had one foot down the rabaroo hole.


	6. Chapter 6

Just as Sokka had promised he had come back to visit Azula, for the most part things occurred much the same as the time before with only a subtle difference; when she finally grew tired of his presence, she told him not to come back. For the better part of the afternoon he wracked his brain trying to figure out why. What had he done differently to essentially be told to fuck off? He ran everything over in his mind once more.

He had knocked on the door and she took her time in getting to it. When it did fall open he was happy to see that the woman who opened it had at least brought herself to exchange her robe for a simple silk t-shirt and a pair of loose fitting pants of the same material. Just like before she didn't beckon him in—only turning away and expecting him to follow. Once in the room Azula propped herself back onto her mattress and lie down on her side. After he had come to stand in the center of the room he offered to run a comb through her hair. The glare she bore him indicated that the very thought was preposterous. Of course he hadn't really expected her to let him touch her. As before he ran through a series of questions. As before, to every question, she responded with a 'no'. And with that he had run out of words, just like the night prior. So he ended it the same way; by offering to drop by tomorrow. She stole a look at her dresser before snapping at him to, 'just leave her alone and mind his own business!'

He had come to conclude that, for once in her life, the princess herself simply had no idea what she wanted. It had stung all the same. He gave his brush another stroke, he was half through with adding the red of her robe. But he found his focus waning again and began to regret visiting Azula at all. Just as she had given him inspiration, she seemed to be sucking it away. He just couldn't figure it out…couldn't figure her out. She seemed so terribly alone, everything in her mannerisms told him that she wanted someone by her side. And yet everything she vocalized said she was content in her isolation. He knew better though, he knew much better; the more adamant he used to be about not talking to a soul, the more he longed for someone to comfort him.

That is exactly what prompted him to make his way back up the stairs.

At the sound of Azula's voice he realized that perhaps she hadn't invited him back because she had invited someone else first. Based on how sharply her voice rose, he speculated that it was a very privet matter, whatever it was. From the distance he was at, he still couldn't make out what the discussion was about. He didn't hear the other person reply at all; he supposed it made sense though, the other person was clearly not as riled up as Azula. He stood near the door wondering if he should just turn back. He gave the door a quick knocking, telling himself that he could act as a peacemaker. The door was unlocked again, for his sturdy knocks had pushed it ajar. But it would seem that the princess nor her guest hadn't noticed. He chanced a peek inside, to find Azula alone as ever.

He gulped, even after all of that time, he still couldn't get used to seeing the woman talk to herself. Especially when the conversation held such unpleasant themes as the one she was having in current.

He knew he should have pulled the door back into its initial resting place and bolted. She would have been none the wiser. He knew that it was much safer—for him anyhow—to just leave her to it. But he couldn't do it. Maybe he had too much compassion, maybe he liked putting on his masculine brave face, or maybe he was just a reckless fool. No matter what part of his nature called him to do so, he slowly crept into the room, stepping over a bottle or two and then the heap of clothes she had changed out of. To his luck the firebender took no notice of him, all too engrossed in yelling back at whatever she thought was fighting her. It left him with a nervous sense of anticipation. He considered, again, fleeing altogether. He pushed that idea back and instead weighed the pros and cons of vocalizing his arrival verses letting her spot him on her own.

"Maybe I should." He heard her say quietly. She took a dizzy step forward. Her expression shifted again, from a look of hurt back into one of pure rage. She took an empty bottle from atop her nightstand and flung it across the room.

Sokka took an instinctive step back in the direction of the exit.

"HOW DARE YOU!" She yelled to the corner of the room. This time she took a series of missteps. If he hadn't been there to snake an arm around her middle, she would have toppled into the pile of broken glass.

Azula was shaking in his hold, it took him a moment to realize that she was crying. She let him lead her to her bed, where he lowered her down. At first it didn't register, he thought that she was having a serious relapse. And then it clicked; the tired eyes, the odd and uncanny complexion, the general state of her body, the cold sweat…

She wasn't relapsing—not into her initial form of insanity anyhow—she was undeniably high and probably has been, on some substance or another, for sometime now. And it would seem that she was not having a good trip.

Sokka did a double take, just to be certain of what he was seeing. Azula's eyes were still dilated, more than the day before, and her stare was so far away. She was mumbling a string of words that didn't seem to belong together, some of them out of order. She was definitely on something.

Her anxious trembling increased, he could swear that she was rocking herself however slightly, raising an accusatory finger at whatever it was that she was verbally sparring with. "I am a dragon! You'll see, you'll all see." She paused, cocking her head as if to better hear the invisible specter. "I'm not worthless… I just…I just need—" She broke off into a sharp cry before throwing her hands over her eyes. Whatever it was, she didn't want to see it. Whatever it was had her laying down and bunching up, muttering at it to "go away, just go away." Her entire display sent chills down his spine, and he feared that she would lash out at him. He looked longingly at the door, his key to freedom. He could leave and pretend like he'd seen nothing at all. It wouldn't be his problem. He could get rid of the painting and fine a better, less dangerous source of inspiration…

Shoveling down his fear, Sokka decided that he would stay with her. He looked down at Azula, she was just as afraid as he was. No, she was more terrified, irrefutably so. The woman next to him was shaking all over. Shaking and sobbing and doing everything in her power to not hear the voice—voices?—hounding her. Somehow that eased his apprehensions. Azula wasn't going to hurt him, at least not until she was lucid again. As reluctant as he was, Sokka rubbed his hand over her arm.

Her focus was fixated so heavily on not seeing the demons taunting her, it was as though he weren't there at all. He was willing to bet that she didn't even realize he was a real, tangible being. He wouldn't be surprised to find that she didn't take any notice of him at all.

All the same, he decided that—whether she liked it or not—she wouldn't have to go through this alone.


	7. Chapter 7

Sokka awoke with an aching back. There was nothing quite as unpleasant as sleeping on the floor, but he didn't want to leave Azula alone, he had to make sure that the woman didn't hurt herself. For the most part, she had lie quietly—save for a few sobs—upon the bed. Something eventually provoked her though. Enough to get her to abruptly spring from her bed and start throwing punches. Sokka didn't make a move to stop her until she started beating her fists against the wall. He felt it unwise to actually grab hold of her arms; not wanting to actually fight the woman coupled with a contradictory fear that he'd snap her wrists if he held too tight, kept him from doing so. Instead he held his hand level with the spot she was punching, by the time Azula's rage subsided his knuckles were raw and bore traces of blood. As a painful tingling danced about the back of his hand, he watched her walk lopsidedly back to her bed, breathing heavily.

She never did fall asleep.

Neither did he.

So when she finally looked at him with clear eyes and with a mind that processed he truly was there—and had been the whole time, he didn't know what to tell her. He knew he'd seen something she didn't want him too, and by the vicious gaze she was cutting him, it was abundantly clear that he was to keep quiet.

"Good morning." Sokka tried.

"I told you not to come back here." Her voice was dangerously low.

"Sorry, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay." He replied lamely.

"I'm fine." Azula grumbled.

"Fine? You were yelling at the corner of the room." He pointed out.

"Don't you have some where to be?" Azula asked

He held up his hand, "you almost did this," he pointed to his bruised knuckles. "To yourself."

"I'm sure you'd much rather be elsewhere."

"You're on drugs." Sokka persisted more bluntly.

Azula changed directions again. "Don't you have a painting to work on?"

"Don't you realize how serious this is?" He asked, growing increasingly more frustrated.

"You seemed pretty eager to tell me about it a few days ago." Azula diverted. "So talk. Tell me about your stupid painting."

"We can talk about that again after we talk about more important problems." Sokka replied.

"Like how you're still standing in my room, talking to me like I'm a child." Azula retaliated. "You look like hell, by the way."

He had to admit that she was as good at dodging subjects as she was at dodging attacks when they battled. So good, in fact, that he almost took the bait and replied, "if I look like hell, then what do you look like?" He held his tongue, the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel worse than she probably already did. Even less so, did he want to push her away for good. So instead he backtracked again, "You're in a lot of trouble and I want to help—"

She cut him off. "Your friends are probably looking for you."

Sokka pinched the bridge of his nose, it would seem that he'd have to change his line of attack. "They might be." He agreed. "So why don't you come downstairs and join me for breakfast?" He already knew the answer.

Fixing him a hard stare, Azula sat back down and crossed her arms over her chest. "I have no more plans to interact with you nor your barbaric friends."

Finally, Sokka's annoyance reached its peak. Clearly he was getting nowhere with her, she didn't seem to want the help anyhow. She had a lot of insults to throw and no gratitude to give. "Me and my friends are barbaric? You've been wearing the same thing for days now, and you said I liked like hell? Ya know what? Fine, don't come with me! If you want to be alone, then be alone." He turned his back to her made a point of not looking over his shoulder as he walked, knowing that if he did those tired and solemn eyes would coax him back. If he looked back he would see her tousled persona and tiny frame in the doorway growing smaller and smaller still as he put distance between him. And if he looked back, he would have caught the glimmer of regret in her eyes and the way she seemed to shrink back into her room. Even without the visual he regretted the ruthlessness of his words, knowing that he'd probably struck a few raw points.

Instead he focused on what he would say if any of his friends asked him where he had disappeared to and what happened to his hand.

.oOo.

Azula knew that she had a habit of lashing out when angry or afraid. It was a newly acquired habit that seemed to have come with, or have been heightened by her abuses. She longed to go back to the time when she could just shut down altogether and display no emotion. It was easier. Easier and safer. She made a mistake in letting the Water Tribe man in, his angry departure only left her feeling worse than she would have if she didn't take the risk at all. She truly had wanted to let him in, but not that far. He entered too fast and for it, saw too much too soon.

A new and horrible fear taunted Azula's mind. What if he shared what he had seen? She would have to hold off on taking another dose, but Agni she needed one right now. She needed it so desperately as the scene from that morning played itself back in her mind. She couldn't help but feel that he was right, she looked as dreadful as she felt. This haircut was less flattering than the first time she'd sliced her hair up and only served to annunciate how sullen and empty her face had become. She smelled heavily of tobacco and could very well use another shower. Her wrinkled clothing reminded her of just how lazy she'd grown…how useless. And the more she thought about it, the less energy she seemed to have to fix it. Each insult that she delivered to herself—amplified by Sokka's potent reminder—drained more and more motivation from her. She was lethargic in the to begin with. The Ruby Tears always seemed to leave her feeling that way, especially if she took the cactus juice with it.

She needed something to make the truth go away.

To make everything go away.

Azula clutched her left wrist with a bruising force. She could feel the rough patches of scars, they offered their own methods as to how to make everything stop. Their suggestions were quite strong, she needed something to quiet them before…

She gripped her hand tighter.

Azula moved her hand to her head, trying to dull the pounding behind her eyes. The pain of it clouded her vision some. Weak and trembling legs, barely held her up right. She didn't quite make it to her bed before collapsing against it. The beating in her brain doubled. Had she hit herself? A burst of warmth was spreading at her temple. She tried to put two and two together but she was sleepy.

So sleepy.

.oOo.

"Are you okay Sokka? You've been acting moody all morning." Aang asked.

"Yeah you're giving Madame Fussy Britches and Sir Knicker Knots some really good competition." Toph pointed to Katara and Zuko.

"Sorry." Sokka apologized. "I guess I'm just having another rough day." He had no intention of elaborating. He should have been more patient with Azula. Of course, she was going to have a collection of off-handed remarks at the ready. She was hurt and afraid and he was pushing her. For all he know, it could have been the drugs talking. And even if she that wasn't the case, she was still Azula. The same princess who had something sassy and witty to say.

And he had kicked her when she was done. He tried to take a bite of his arctic hen but the whole ordeal had left a sour taste in his mouth that was keeping him from enjoying it. If Suki were around she would know how to handle it. He took a seat, but didn't bother with anymore of the food set before him. He had no appetite for it, especially now that the Kyoshi warrior was back in his thoughts.

His stomach lolled. He remembered the last thing Suki had said to him before leaving him; "you know what Sokka, you're an ass!" He felt sick. "If you can't treat a lady with respect than you deserve to be alone. I don't even know why I tried, you made a horrible first impression."

Tears prickled behind his eyes, the same tears he promised not to shed again. Apparently, he still couldn't treat a lady with respect.

.oOo.

When one has nowhere to be and nothing of importance to do, time seems to just drift away. In that aspect it was very easy for Azula to slip into another one of her drunken dazes. She had scarcely crashed from the Ruby Tears and she was already lifting herself up again. Unlike the Tears, the cactus juice left her feeling quite marvelous. She had a burst of energy that her body couldn't support.

Her latest task was to practice some firebending again. She dropped into a very basic stance, the one she always did when warming up. Her weight was shifted mostly upon her right foot so when she shifted into the next motion her body shook. She pushed forward anyhow, swaying a little more with each movement. She began lifting her arms; this stance in particular required symmetry—arms raising fluidly at the same time. Though she would have argued that, that was exactly what she had accomplished, Azula's right arm was fully erect many seconds before her left. She offered a clumsy kick and an explosion of flames. With that blast she was on her back, wondering what had went wrong. She got to her feet, took another drink, and started over. Her stance twice as unbalanced as the first. Yet, that didn't hinder her in pumping her arms back and forth, spitting out tiny and pathetic balls of fire.

But in her own mind she was doing very good.

In her own mind she had all the esteem and elegance she had once been praised for.

.oOo.

Sokka stood in front of her door. He'd been standing there for some twenty minutes trying to decide if it was wroth it or if he should go back to his room, tear up his painting, and start one with a more promising subject. He was determined to prove Suki wrong, determined to show her that he had respect. So with all of the courage Suki usually instilled in him, he give Azula's door three sturdy knocks. She probably wouldn't answer anyhow. He gave the woman a few moments before backing away, a very premature motion. The door was yanked open with a violent force.

"Oh, good you're back. Wonderful." Azula smiled. "I wasjust bending my practicing." She slurred. "Maybe you can do me a favor and stand realniceandstill."

Looking at the princess' face again he wondered when the last time it was that anyone had treated her with respect. Her hair was plastered to her face by a sheen of sweat, there was a vicious gleam in her unfocused eyes, she was practically sliding down the doorframe she was leaning against, and her robe was slipping from her shoulders. He was frustrated to see that she had changed back into it instead of something clean. Regardless, he made a move to push it back up but she slapped the back of his hand. From what he gathered it had been a very long time since anyone had shown her respect. Despite her less than elegant words and appearance, he was going to try.

He should have been clearer about his intentions. "Can I fix your robe?" He offered.

"C-can can you fuckoff?" She asked, dipping more heavily into the door. Her robed fell down more, prompting him to avert his gaze.

"Can you fix your robe?" He tried, as he locked eyes with her.

"Does it bother you?" She questioned. He only had time to open his mouth before she spoke again, "'cause if it does I have some'in that'll really drive youinsane." He only had time to shut it once more before the princess tore her robe completely open. He was relived to find that she still, at the very least, had those baggy sweatpants on.

No less, the sound of voices coming nearer instilled within Sokka, a new sense of urgency. The last thing Azula needed was to give the palace more rumors to be abuzz with. "Can we do this inside your room, in privet?"

Azula snorted and gave a laugh that lacked all poise and regalness. "You'd like that, wouldn't you Sokka?" She sauntered closer to him, pressing her chest up against his. He took that as his opportunity to pull her robe closed and bind it tighter.

Placing a firm grip on her shoulders he replied, "I'd like to make sure you don't hurt…or embarrass yourself." He felt terribly conflicted in forcing her back into her room and closing the door, knowing how it would have looked had the owners of the voices turned the corner as he did so. Even if that wasn't an issue it felt wrong, like he was cornering her. It felt so terribly predatory. He looked longingly at the door. Suki would be all over him for how he was handling things.

Azula's robe had come undone again. Having been so lost in thought he wasn't sure if she'd done it herself or if it had fallen that way. He peered down at her and she stiffened. He noticed for the first time that her head was bleeding. It would seem that he was the only one of the two who did realize it.

She propped herself up on her arms and thrust her chest up. "Well come here then." She smirked.

Sokka's stomach was growing queasy, all at once he began to loathe the woman on the bed for putting him in such an unbearably uncomfortable situation. He held his ground, back rigid, and face as undaunted as he could manage.

She crawled towards the edge of the bed, clawing at the bedsheets with more force than necessary. When she reached the very edge she growled, "come on Sokka, don't youwanna u-use me like ev'ryone else?" She let body fall back onto the mattress and ran her hand over her chest. He assumed that it was meant to be sensual.

"Not at all." Sokka replied, his stomach knotting much tighter than ever.

She botled up right, her expression changing alarmingly fast. "You you mean I'm not good enough foryou? Oh right. Forgot. I look like hell." Her laugh had a pitch that sent chills down his spine.

"That's not it." Sokka sputtered quickly. "I mean that I don't think you really want me to do…" he paused, "to do that." He was going to throw up, no one has ever put him in such a situation and he didn't know how to handle it. Without having done anything at all, he still felt like he was somehow taking advantage of her. So he walked into her closet and found something that looked both cozy and elegant, but also easy to put on. It was blue in color with embroidery resembling the lightning he'd seen her use so often, it would clash with the pants she was wearing but he'd never seen her wear blue. That and, of all of the sleep shirts he'd looked at, that one looked the easiest to put on. He removed it from the hanger and came back by Azula. The firebender sat with her head drooping from one side to the other. He held her as still as he could manage and pulled the shirt over her arms. He carefully buttoned it up and backed away.

The princess looked like she was about to weep. He tensed up again, fearing that he had overstepped his boundaries. "What's wrong with me?" She asked. The lump in his throat doubled in size, if he didn't choke on it, then surly he'd be choking on his words.

Not that he had any words.

"You haven't had many people to care for you." He replied, trying—for the time being—to take responsibility off of her. "That can damage a person." He couldn't tell if he was still talking about her, or if he had begun speaking of himself. "Can I care for you?"

"Can you?" she returned the question.

With cautious fingers, he brushed her bangs aside. Azula flinched and he drew back. He backtracked, "what happened?"

Azula raised her fingers to the bleeding bump on her temple. "I-I don't r'member." Her eyes dimmed even more.

"Okay." Sokka replied. "That's okay."

"No, nod okay." Azula replied.

As much as it hurt to hear, it relived him to hear that she was regaining some degree of self-awareness. "Can I clean it for you?" He offered.

Azula nodded.

He scanned the room for a glass of water or anything of the sort. Finding none, he told her that he would be right back. He was reluctant to leave her alone, but stepped out of the room anyhow. To his gratitude, she was still in remotely the same position as when he'd left. In that short time, she had taken to laying down.

He moved her bangs again, causing another start. He decided then, that it was best to be very clear about his intentions. "I'm going to dab it a little," he informed before bringing the wet cloth to her head. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong. At least a little of what's wrong?" He asked as he worked.

It would seem that the cactus juice loosened her tongue more than he anticipated. "I'malone. 'M always alone. I have no control over anything. I-I can't stop myself. I can't stop." Her speech was growing less connected with each point she tried to deliver. "I'm useless. Always was. 'Rything I've ever done was pointless. I'm pointless…" she was listing so many things and with such a slur that Sokka was having trouble latching onto any one topic. So instead he just listened to her try to disjointed cry for help. He finished cleansing the cut and began dressing it. "Nothin has been a same since Sozin…" another indistinguishable jumble of words. "Sozin's comet and after that things have been awful. I haven't been right." She pointed at her head, naturally at the spot he was trying to tend to. "Stupid. I'm soso…"

Sokka finished re-applying the bandage she'd moved and nodded, he was pretty certain that he'd got the meaning well enough. He helped her back into a laying position. He hoped that she would acknowledge what she was confessing after she sobered up. Though that would take giving up some pride and she never seemed like the type to trade pride for comfort. "I haven't been right either." He didn't mean to, but he took her hand anyhow. "Not since Suki died."


	8. Chapter 8

It was quite a nice day, ordinary, but nice enough. The sun was positioning itself for the afternoon, surrounding itself with puffs of clouds here and there. The air bore a comfortable temperature, ideal for the picnic Sokka was preparing for. A fine Earth Kingdom day indeed. He spread his picnic blanket—a fine water tribe make with a fur-trimmed border—under the shade of an oak. He watched the meadow grass and honeysuckle roll in the wind, unparted save for Suki wadding through it. His smile brightened. He couldn't tell what she was holding yet—perhaps a cluster of cinnamon rolls or a cluster of wheat buns, whatever it was, it was a bread of some sort. He wondered if she'd made it herself. He hustled to smooth out the blanket better and set it with the food he'd brought. He arranged and re-arranged it several times before finally setting on a place for everything. Sokka plucked two thick strands of grass and plastered them upon his upper lip. He dipped into his Wang Fire voice and spoke, "a croissant for the lady?" Suki chuckled as she took the croissant and set her own snacks down.

"You said you had news?" Sokka asked.

"Great news!" She confirmed cheerfully.

Sokka propped himself up against the tree as Suki lowered herself down next to him and watched the clouds roll by for a good while. Perfectly content to just sit quietly in Sokka's arms and listen to various bird calls and the rustle of leaves as the breeze sneezed past. Suki yawned, only to have Sokka cover her mouth. "Careful you might swallow a leaf." He cautioned as one broke away from a branch above. It fluttered down until it landed in Sokka's soup.

"Maybe you need to cover your food instead of my mouth." Suki quirked an eyebrow. She plucked a dandelion and twirled it between her fingers. From somewhere in the distance an ostrich-horse squawked.

With the mood effectively ruined, Sokka asked, "So what's the news?"

"Well…" She started, taking a spoonful of soup.

"Yeah?"

"Are you ready to be a dad?" She asked.

"N-no!" Sokka answered much too abruptly. He hadn't meant to sound rude, but Suki's crinkled expression told him that he absolutely had been. It wasn't that he didn't want to have a child. It wasn't that at all. He was simply afraid; Suki would make a splendid mother. But him? A father? He couldn't even halt his own childish antics. He tried to play it off as a joke. "Those things are squishy and weird, ya know."

"You know what? You're squishy and weird!" She accused, reminding him again that she was still the same old Suki he'd known for so long. The same Suki who couldn't come up with any nickname for Ozai upon his defeat. But what the insult lacked in quality it packed a punch in the tone in which it was delivered. He knew that she wasn't trying to be goofy when she made that sweeping windmill motion with her arms. It was the same one Katara gave Aang when he did something dumb.

Sokka tried to play it off again, "is that sweeping motion a woman thing?" He should know by now that humor doesn't ease any tension with Suki. It usually ended up making it worse, and he had chosen the wrong kind of joke. He knew it as soon as it left his mouth and he wanted to slap himself.

"You know what Sokka, you're an ass!" She threw his croissant at him. "If you can't treat a lady with respect than you deserve to be alone. I don't even know why I tried, you made a horrible first impression."

"Suki!" He called. But she was already storming down the hillside. "Suki, wait! I was just screwing around. It was a bad time, I know but…"

She wasn't listening.

"Suki." He scurried to catch up.

"Sokka, I have a boat to catch."

"You're not really going to Kyoshi Island? I thought you said you were going to skip this trip." He replied.

"I thought that you were going to be a good father." She replied, and repeated for him the statement about treating women with respect. The way she rolled her shoulders and straightened her back indicated that the conversation was well and done.

If for no other reason than to show her that he respected her opinion and decision he backed down. "Well, I'll be here when you get back."

When she looked back at him he became sure it was just the hormones. Of course she wasn't going to shy away from her promise, but she would be back.

It was going to be a long two weeks, but when she got back from Kyoshi Island, he was going to have the knowledge of a good father—even if that meant an awkward conversation with is own. Not only was he going to be prepared for fatherhood, but he was going have a small surprise baby shower ready for her!

.oOo.

News came that night, news of the dismal sort, that there had been an accident. The boat departing from Full Moon Bay to Kyoshi Island had gone down. A very simple logistics error had the ship colliding full force with a ship on the same path. The boat at fault was a hefty Fire Nation vessel transporting its own set of passengers. Details were lacking but among Suki's ship only five survived, she was not one.

In Sokka's mind, Suki was just another thing claimed by the Fire Nation. Sokka raged at Zuko until the man retreated back to the Fire Nation. Too late, Katara finally made him see that the Fire Lord wasn't at fault. Zuko was no sailor and only served to grant passenger ships and cargo ships passage into Fire Nation waters. It took much longer for his sister to get him to see that the Fire Nation in general hadn't meant any strife, after all, their ship had a much hire death toll.

But his fiancé. His angry fiancé and their unborn babe.

He wondered how many mothers were aboard the sunken Fire Nation ship.

That night was the beginning of an end for him. He had no more sarcastic quips to give, his sense of humor died with Suki. In fact, his jokes were what caused her death, if he hadn't made them in the first place, she wouldn't have gone onto that ship. He vowed to never make another, lest it get someone else killed.

And so Sokka dropped the 'sarcasm' and became 'the meat guy'. He lost his appetite soon after and became just, 'the guy'.

The guy who sat by himself staring at his palms, thinking about the family he could have had. Sometimes he'd drift away at the dinner table, sometimes it was in his room, other times it would be when he was outside by the pond. It was bad enough losing Yue; he thought that, that had been the end of the world. That was only a childhood crush—heavy and sorrowful all the same. But this time around he lost pure and true love. He lost a future. Not just one but three of them.

Soon he ceased going out with the rest of the gang altogether. More often than not, he would spy a charming little family; a happy dad tossing is tiny son into the air and catching him again while the mother giggled, a mother burping her little girl as the father held the bottle, a mother holding a baby boy while the father held the girl twin, and even two fathers and baby girl. Forgetting the situation at hand, Katara would gush at each one and tell Aang of how that would be them one day. Surprisingly enough Toph was the one to take him to the side and find him something to distract him as the worst of it passed.

He belonged in his room where reminders were sparse. And he was more than happy to go back to the Water Tribe with Katara where there were even less people. He seldom left his hut because the little people that did dwell in the Southern Tribe were much closer knit than families of any of the other nations. He only left his house when night fell, and only to wander and think and come back feel lower than when he'd left.

Having enough sulking, Hakoda sent he and Katara off for a change of scenery. And so they came to be at the palace.

He didn't know if Azula had heard the ending. If he were being honest, he wasn't sure if she was truly listening at all or if she was completely lost in her drunk stupor. No matter when her focus abated, by the time he had finished the princess seemed to be well and passed out. He carefully set her head—injured side up—on her pillows and pulled the covers up to her neck.

.oOo.

Azula woke with a pounding in her head, harsher than she'd endured the day prior, and made worse by the rays of light streaming through the parted curtains. The bought was worse than she'd endured, perhaps, ever. Her belly uncomfortably bloated from how heavily she'd drank the other day—even she knew that she'd over done it that time. She was going to be sick. Maybe not right then, but eventually. The amount of empty bottles scattered about the room, was a new record for her. She wouldn't be surprised at all to find that she'd downed the last of it. Everything ached from her eyes, to her neck, to her legs. But it was that searing pain beating against her brain, that was the worst of it. With her head pounding at such an intensity, the princess could very nearly ignore every other dull agony her body was experiencing. She ought to be used to it by now. Azula rolled onto her side with a soft groan.

She ran a hand over her arm, feeling naked skin beneath her finger. She very faintly recalled that someone had been in the room with her. Her stomach dropped. She pulled the covers away and found that she was, in fact, wearing a shirt. It simply had shorter sleeves than the one she had put on. She couldn't recall swapping her clothes. She didn't remember much of the night before, and what she did recollect of it was extremely vague and out of order. She knew she had tried bending at some point—probably earlier on the day before—which would account for her sore legs. What else? What else had she done, she wracked her brain trying to recall. Sokka had been there, she remembered something about Sokka. But what? She ran a hand through her hair, somehow, she was still shocked to find it so short. She was deviating from the point. She strained herself thinking about it, but a few more pieces finally came back and she wished that they hadn't. She had went and flashed him. Her cheeks, still a faint shade of pink from the cactus juice, flushed a deeper shade. But what then? Nothing more would come back to her.

Paranoia didn't have a chance to set in when another spell of nausea hit her. This time she did double over, with just enough time to grab the trash can under her nightstand. Each retch seemed to deepen the pain in behind her eyes. They grew watery at the new burning sensation. Sokka appeared in the door way, just in time to see her hunched unflatteringly over the trash can, sitting on her legs as she tried to catch her breath.

He knelt down next to her.

"Get away from me." She growled, taking extra care not to let him see the look of pure humiliation on her face. She arched over again. This time he held what little length she had left of her hair back. The firebender supposed it couldn't hurt to let him do that much. He left the room again and came back with a cloth. Again, she decided that the gesture could do no harm and accepted the offer. Collecting the shattered fragments of her dignity, she wiped her face and turned to look at him, leaning heavily and limply against her nightstand. While he was there she supposed she would make the most of it. "The curtains." Azula spoke hoarsely. "Close them." She wondered if that was the state of her voice now, she couldn't remember the last time she spoke with a silky softness.

"I thought I'd bring you something to eat." Sokka noted as he drew the curtains shut. A merciful dimness befell the room.

Azula let her hand fall to her stomach, reminded again of how uncomfortably full it felt. "I'm not hungry."

"Trust me, it'll help." Sokka insisting, adding quickly that he'd had his share of cactus juice. "Back in the Ba Sing Se, I was at this party. Suki and I got pretty into it, had a little too much. We both felt really queasy. Haru told me to have a bite to eat, he recommended boring, unbuttered bread."

"So?" Azula asked.

"It worked." He held out a small slice. Reluctantly the firebender took the bread, nibbling on it when she found the energy to do so. "So, are we going to talk about what happened last night?"

Azula waved him off. "I don't remember." She lied.

"Allow me to fill you in."

She didn't want to hear it, but was, all the same, very curious. Especially regarding the events after she had loosened her robe. It brought another queasy sensation to her belly to even begin considering the possibilities. Azula knew that Sokka had a bit of a reputation for being a ladies' man and at once she didn't want to know. "It doesn't matter." She said flatly, "I don't care."

Sokka blinked in disbelief.

Changing her mind again she asked, "what did you do to me?" At his lack of response she clarified, "after I…" She wouldn't dance around the subject, not this time anyhow. "After I took my robe off."

"I put it back on." He replied. "Twice." Based on the deep red of his face, she assessed that he was telling the truth. "Well, technically the second time I dressed you in something harder for you to slip out of again." He sputtered. At the mention of it a few more mental images filtered in her mind. She let out a soft sigh, deciding that she had been very lucky that Sokka was, if nothing else, a morally sound individual.

"That's all we need to talk about." She stated.

"Is it?" He asked. "you could have hurt yourself…"

"Then you should have let me."

He held her hand up to her head. Feeling a bandage beneath her pointer, she knew what he was going to tell her. "You already did. In more ways then one, I think." He paused, waiting for the response she declined to give. "You need to stop doing this." He motioned to the bottles on the ground.

"Don't tell me what I have to do." Azula grumbled. "I should be telling you what to do." She noted.

Apparently, he was willing to be flexible with the subject of their discussion. Instead of pushing that, he tried something new. "Alright, how about this? I want you to tell me what has you so upset, just one thing."

"Nothing is wrong, I'm fine." The response was second-nature.

From the look in his eyes she could tell that he was going to refuse to let her brush it off again. "You had a collection of them to share last night."

She turned her head away from him, in no mood to do this right now. Her head was pounding more ferociously. She Brought her hands to her head. "You're being too loud." She snarled, "Shut your mouth for one spirit forsaken minute."

"I'm sorry." Sokka apologized. "You're right, this is a bad time. I'm not good at this kind of stuff."

At current, his voice was touching her brain in all of the wrong ways. "Leave."

"I'm not—"

"Leave." She repeated with more firmness. At that point any sensible man or woman would have tucked tail and squirmed away. But Sokka. Sokka was a thing of his own.

"You know what, no." He held his ground. "I shouldn't have left you alone the first time."

Azula's narrowed her eyes, in doing so she caused them to burn more. A few tears prickled behind her eyes, she hoped that he wouldn't take it the wrong way. She took another resentful bite of bread. For as deeply as she detested to admit it, the Water Tribesman was right, the nauseous feeling was easing up. "Then don't leave. But don't expect a sappy conversation about feelings." She told herself that she would have blasted him with a round of fire if she wasn't feeling so fatigued, knowing very well that she didn't want to hurt him—not at that moment anyhow. And even if she wanted to she knew that she probably hadn't the skill for it anymore. The hurt must have shown on her face, for he opened his mouth to inquire but thought better of it.

Instead he replied. "If you need anymore bread, let me know. I made too much of it."

"Just throw it at the turtle ducks." Azula said off-handedly. Despite saying so, she reached for another slice. She wanted to lay down again, but didn't want to pull herself up to get there. She was sleepy, so terribly exhausted. Exhausted, and embarrassed, and ashamed. She lowered herself onto the floor, with her hands tucked under her head. As she did so, it truly set in; how could she have let him see her as she was last night? How could she let him see her in her present state? Even without a vivid image of the night before she was well aware of her situation. She had been and was still sloppy and pitiful and dishonorable. She was truly a mess and she had no idea how to clean up. And somehow she still felt that it was beneath her to look up at the man next to her—a man who was being so patient and so willing to offer a hand—and ask for help.


	9. Chapter 9

Sokka hadn't meant to neglect Azula for so long. His venture to Hira'a was supposed to take a day or two at most. But it would seem that Ursa had a lot more planned than he thought. She wanted to show the group seemingly every nook and cranny of the place. From her childhood home and hideouts to the little turtle-crab shack she used work during the summers. That was what she said that they would be doing, but the Hira'a theatre put on a two-night long production of Love Amongst the Dragons in honor of the Lady Ursa's return.

All in all, the trip had been fun enough but he was ready to go home. Especially knowing that he had completely forgotten to ask nor even tell the princess that they were leaving. It had been eating him alive the whole vacation and he was itching to check up on her. Three days to herself, was a long time for her to be alone. Day four was just beginning and he was determined to be home by nightfall, even if he had to out-nag Katara.

.oOo.

He didn't come back to visit her. Azula couldn't say she was surprised, she had been so adamant about kicking him out. In truth she decided that she didn't want him to leave at all. No, what she wanted was to demand it just to hear him beg to stay, longed to hear him insist that he'd stay. It made her feel wanted. But the risk she had taken in doing so, seemed to have backfired.

She couldn't blame him for not wanting to be around her. Her room alone was pungent with the musky smell of tobacco and cactus juice, just one of those scents was off-putting, as a combined odor they could make the strongest person flee.

Azula wandered over to her dresser, feeling about the drawer for the hidden compartment she'd crafted with in. She found the latch and flicked it up, brushing her fingers over the pouch of Ruby Tears. She was almost afraid to try it again, the first few times had been such disasters.

She stayed away from the cactus juice too; she couldn't stop crafting scenarios in her mind. Ones very similar to the real thing. In each scenario she bared her chest but the end result was quite different. In one of them Sokka had agreed that he did want to use her. In a different scenario, Sokka had left her and someone else decided to take advantage. She was squeamish at the thoughts of what could have happened. But she hadn't had a drink in a little over twenty-four hours and she was growing agitated. Despite the fears, she probably would have caved and taken another drink—just one glass—she told herself. But both fortunately and unfortunately for the princess, she had in fact drained her stash during the last binge.

So Azula found her kiseru instead. She twirled it between her fingers before filling and lighting it. Reclining in one of her many chairs, she asked herself why she didn't just stick to the tobacco. It was the first thing she had turned to and it was the most reliable. For the most part it offered only a relaxed haze, one that she craved so terribly. The euphoria of the cactus juice was nice, but it came with a hefty price.

Alone, she sat, her attention flickering between the wafting smoke and the door. She considered that Sokka was simply running late or had matters to attend. He couldn't possibly drop by every day and she didn't want him too, she wasn't that needy. Still she fixated her attention on the door, until the tobacco had her too lethargic to keep her head up. She dosed off with one hand resting upon the armrest and her kiseru hand dangling limply over the side. Somehow the device remained grasped loosely between her middle two fingers.

A second day came to pass and Sokka still didn't make an appearance. She was happy to say, to no attribute of her own, that she hadn't touched the cactus juice since the morning she woke up with Sokka by her side. A good two days, that was, going on three. But she would change that as soon as she found a servant willing to run to the market for her. She also prided herself on not getting near the Ruby Tears either. A few more hours would change that.

They passed uneventfully, with her berating herself for various things while trying to muster up the willpower to do something, anything. But one thing remained painfully clear; she had messed things up with the one person who could be bothered to visit her. It was a fresh slash to her ego and she had to alleviate the sting. She would give him another hour to stop by before deciding that Sokka hated her as much as the rest of them. Needing something to do, Azula unfolded the letter she'd received and ignored the day before. She had taken the time to pen a note to Chan when she noticed her supply growing low. He had only just gotten back to her with the price and a basic map. She put it aside, hoping to never use it.

A half an hour drifted by at a tantalizingly slow pace. It gave her plenty of time to take notice of the cold sweat at her brow and the peculiar shaking of her hands. Growing jittery, she took to pacing about the room.

Azula tried with everything she had, to latch onto the pride that came with having been free of Ruby Tears and cactus juice, even if it had only been such a short amount of time.

The second half of the hour came to pass. By then Azula noted the dryness of her mouth and the occasional tremor that wracked her body. Still Sokka didn't knock. He was probably off sharing what he'd seen with dear Zu-Zu and the rest of his friends. They were probably laughing and jesting about how far she'd fallen, and how well-deserved it was. Funny it was indeed, that someone who had been so talented at manipulating and wrapping others around her finger, couldn't keep track of herself. And it was another hour after that before she too began to hate herself again, with twice as much intensity. The mental and physical torment proved to be a force to reckon with. Unable to bare the sensations that harassed her for a second longer, Azula ripped her dresser open and plucked the pouch out with trembling fingers.

Had he been there, Sokka would have been delighted to know that she'd gone the extra day without touching anything other than her kiseru. But he couldn't be fucked to drop by, so she dumped the entirety of the pouch out and inhaled it all. Granted what was left of her stash was only a little more than she'd take normally, but it felt so good to do something spiteful once again. Even she knew that she was only hurting herself. But Agni, she could pretend otherwise. It felt good to pretend, and if she spun it the right way, she could tell herself that she had control over something again.

As if to kick her even more, the Ruby Tears lacked its usual punch.

.oOo.

Azula felt anxious and powerful all at once, creeping down the hallway in the latest hour of night. It reminded her of the days when she had clear goals and missions. If she imagined hard enough, she could almost make-believe that she was on one. It had been so long since she'd left her room, and much longer since she made it anywhere further than a little down the hall. She almost couldn't remember the layout of the palace. But for the first time in ages, her mind was nearly clear. She was still terribly drained, but she had motivation and a speckle of determination on her side. Two more things that she clung furiously to.

She imagined that her task would be rather easy this time around, with Zu-Zu and Ursa well away from the palace and Iroh planted firmly in the Jasmine Dragon. She might have to sweet talk a couple of guards or set off a blast of fire or two. But that would be easy enough. But she wouldn't if she didn't have to. The less fuss she made, the less questions would be asked, and the less questions asked the better off she would be in the long run. For that, Azula swapped her baggy pants for something form-fitting and black in color. Such a simple task that would have been, had she not lost so much weight. In the end she dressed herself in the smallest pants she had, and she still had to rustle about the room to find something to bind them up with. The top was a bit easier, though still loose the short sleeves kept it from slipping off. Overall, her attire was stealthy enough for what she needed to accomplish.

Even at her worst, she still had some semblance of the world around her. To some degree, Azula had kept tabs on the guards and their whereabouts at what times, based on when they'd knock at her door to check on her. Since Sokka had been absent they'd started knocking again. She couldn't be sure of their locations on the floors below though. She couldn't imagine that they'd hassle her any of they spotted her, but she had no desire to talk to them. She waited for the pair of guards to make a left down the hall before making her right and taking to the stair case. For a considerable span of time she stood at the window facing the courtyard, getting a feel for the direction of the night patrol. When she finally felt as though she had gained enough intel she continued to creep down the hall, sticking mostly to the shadows and only weaving out of them when an inconveniently placed piece of furniture forced her to do so.

She considered for a moment, running back up the stairs to retrieve a guard uniform of her own—if she could steal it when high, she'd have no problem snatching it when mostly sober. She decided against it, reasoning that the bulky armor would only slow her down.

She took a deep breath, the hardest part of her mission upon her. One place that was never left unguarded at any point, was the palace treasury. If she didn't deliver a crippling blow per guard it would be well and over. They'd call for back up and she'd be questioned to hell and back and then probably locked away again, nice and safe and away from the world. Drawing in another breath, she burst away from her hiding spot, pulling just enough lightning to her fingertips, to have the guards on the ground. As they charged, she thrust her arms out and jabbed both men in the middle. She watched them topple.

Azula had to take a moment—one that she really didn't have time for—to rest her sore body. She stumbled into the treasury and slumped against the wall. She was surprised to find that those tiny taser-sized bolts had depleted a good portion of her energy pool. She slammed her fist against the wall, she should be that tired already. After two lighter pounds, she heaved herself away from the wall and plucked a pouch full of coins. The price of Ruby Tears, high-end stuff anyhow, came at a substantial fee. One that she could more than afford, but at any rate would draw attention if her habit worsened. Once or twice though, maybe even three or four times, she'd be able to pocket some money without it being missed. Anymore than that and Zuko would eventually notice that gold was being spent without being accounted for. It was a fear that lie in the back of her mind for when the problem arose. Some how she felt that it would sooner rather than later.

With the currency safely pocketed away, Azula snuck back into the hallway, taking the time to position the guards as if they'd merely fallen asleep.

With a little more wandering, eventually she came to the second place she was seeking, one of her favorite secret passages. The one she used time and time again as a child and once more during her kemurikage masquerade. Safely tucked within the hidden hallway, she would have no more worry about running into company. She would only have to worry about crossing the courtyard, but if she had planned accordingly she'd emerge from the passageway during the small window of time where the side of the palace was left unguarded. There were two guards station to patrol north, east, west, and south at all times. The route was simple enough, one guard would do a sweep of the outer most boarder and one would do a sweep of the innermost. This required a back and forth stride from one end of their zone to the next. Usually the inner patrol personal would come to meet at the center (where they'd chat it up for a few precious minutes), while the outer patrol retreated at separate corners of their zones. This granted Azula the perfect opening to make a quick sprint towards the exit. She grinned to herself, realizing that she still had some deductive skill and brainpower left. It felt refreshing to put it to use, even if the end goal was to simply acquire herself more drugs to sap it away.

The hardest part of her task was behind her, all she had to do was get to the rendezvous point. The streets were quiet except for a few night-shifters on their way home from or to work, a few party goers, those who fancied late-night strolls, and a handful of citizens who were for some reason or another inclined to do their shopping late at night. For the most part the Fire Nation streets, especially those closest to the palace, were free of low-lives and thugs. The Fire Nation had an economy as booming as their bending, very few people slipped between the cracks, making night walks relatively safe and free of pickpocketers. No, she would have to make her way to the outer rim of the back side of the volcano and a little ways past to the shoddier outskirts of the city. The parts that Ozai and Zuko alike, tried to hide.

Drawing a hood over her head, Azula motioned for a carriage driver. The woman would only take her as far as the border of town and told her that she was on her own in finding a way back. The chastising look in her eyes, told Azula that the woman thought her a fool for going in this direction at all. The princess figured that she was probably correct.

.oOo.

Azula wasn't sure if she was off-put or thankful for the lack of attention she was paid as she made her way to Chan's alley. Keeping her hood up and her face obscured, she wandered along an ill-tended to path. In this place her sight needed to be everywhere at once, even on the ground, lest she trip over one of the potholes of a size bigger than both of her feet and then some.

There was an odor in the air of sulfur and the trash that littered ever corner. Bottles, clothes, old and rotting carriage tires, and bundles of dirty cloth wadded drainage systems and decorated the streets. The houses were in just as sorry of a state. Most seemed to be rotting away—at various stages of decay—and some seemed to be caving in on themselves. All of them had mold or mildew or some putrid fungus weeping from their crevices. A handful of the shacks spit their wood and shingles into the dry grass below. Too small to fit it all within their walls, another cluster of houses leaked beaten furniture. Azula could only imagine how overflowing their interiors must look. A part of the firebender connected with these houses.

Occasionally she had to step over a body or two, she couldn't gauge for certain if they were sleeping or dead, and she wasn't going to give them an examination. Azula crinkled her nose as she passed one of the overflowing waste gutters. That's when the regret really had time to seep in. All in all, the place was complete scum. The kind of setting that reserved for the broken and the beat down. The kind of place where souls wasted away with the kind of people Azula had looked down upon all her life. The desperate sort, the filthy, trashy sort, and the miserable sort.

All at once, Azula wondered if she belonged among them. Had she not been born into royalty, she may have been one of them. Blood aside, she certainly wasn't quite so different, in any other regard. With their haggard clothing, gaunt bodies, and hollow faces.

She watched a man with an unkempt beard stagger drunkly from any alleyway, nearly colliding with her. She took an alarmed step back. The man snarled and throw his bottle at her feet, grumbling a few indistinguishable curses, likely about how she had obstructed his serene stroll. Azula winced and picked a few shards from her feet, thankful that none of them bit too deep. She would still have to cleanse them intensely when she got home, Agni only knew where that bottle had been.

Another block up, offered her the sight of a girl even younger than she, pressed up against the back of an alley. She couldn't have been older than sixteen. Her eyes were frantic and unfocused, her body twitchy and jittery. Her arms bruised all over. She brushed a long tangle of brittle greying-black hair from her face. Azula could see her face twisting and untwisting as she sputtered about how the alleymen were on their way to take her. Azula's stomach lurched, as the image hit far too close to home. The princess took another step back. Back in the day, there wasn't much that frightened her but lately she was discovering more and more that did. She was chest deep in uncharted territory, with unfamiliar foes, no plan, and no way save for her own two bleeding feet to get home.

Just like the drugs she was doing this for, this was no battlefield, and she didn't know her way about it. For the first time in her life, she cursed her high-birth and the sights it—up until present—spared her.

So this, she thought as she took in all of the sights in full, is what they call The Ash Pit.

Azula unfolded Chan's letter, she had to be getting close. He made note of a structure called 'The Spoke Wheel'. According to his footnote, it was a tower of wheels with sharpened points, crafted by his gang. It was a landmark and to the left of it, was the start of their territory. With more caution than before, Azula made her way passed the structure. She followed the map until she came to a particularly tiny, run-down shack. She thought it looked more like a large shed. Out front was a small campfire surrounded by rough and burly looking ruffians.

The princess knew that she ought to turn back. Knew that idiodic was an underwhelming description of the action she was about to take. No less, she refused to let her trip be for nothing so she made her way towards the group.

Her approach invited a line of gawkers; about six males at various stages in the journey from boyhood to manhood and two girls. One of these women, had bigger biceps than her male companions, her stare alone seemed to ask for a fight. The other of the two girls spit at Azula's shoes, missing by a few inches. She ignored the stares and approached Chan. "The Ruby Tears?" She withdrew her pouch of coins. Such an action elicited a round of laughter. With her lip twitching, she kept her eyes on Chan.

"Never be in these parts before have ye?" Greeted one of the boys. "Only the dumb ones pull out their money like that, boy."

"That ain't no boy, Yoko. That a girl." Spoke the younger boy next to him. He got to his feet, and came to stand much too close. "She kinda a pretty girl."

"That's what you're calling pretty?" Asked the muscular girl.

"Well you and Yoona ain't give us much better standard." The boy replied leaning in even closer to Azula, "she smell kinda nice too." He grinned and snaked his hand around her waist.

Impulse alone had her knocking him to the ground. She knew that it was a horrible move before the rest of the group stood up. "Ya gonna take that Minho?" Asked Yoona.

"Whadda ya thinks?" Minho scrambled to his feet. "When Minho wants somethin', Minho takes it. And Minho wants the pretty girl." Seeing it on Mai so many times, Azula recognized the quick flash of a blade sliding from a sleeve to a hand.

A circle of bodies came to surround the pair. Azula felt sick all over again. She was still so drained and her head still pounded. In that regard, Minho already had the upper hand. Fire also wasn't an option, it's blue hue would be a dead giveaway. The last thing she needed was for a bunch of junkies, to figure out that their princess was one of them. If they knew, the whole of Capital City would. She supposed she'd rather have a blade between her ribs than that. Lightning was once again, the only thing she had at her disposal, but a truly effective blow wasn't exactly the quickest thing to generate.

She gave the circle a quick scan, her eyes falling upon a particularly scrawny boy with extremely poor posture. She'd move towards him, take a good shot at him, and make her escape. Not moving her eyes from Minho, she edged in that direction.

From behind, Chan cleared his throat. "I don't know about the rest of you, but our little band could use some funding. What do you say, you let me get that money?" It wasn't a question and the group knew it. Reluctantly they backed away. None of them regained their seats and Minho eyed her with a possessive fury.

Chan sauntered up to Azula. "Nice haircut." He gave it a quick ruffle. "It suits you." Though she disagreed indefinitely, she assessed that his compliment was sincere. And then to Minho he spoke, "you think she's beautiful now, you should have seen her with long hair." He held his hand level to where her hair used to fall. He addressed Azula again, quieter, "he has a thing for hair, the longer the better."

"I'll be sure to chop the rest of it off when I get home." Azula grumbled. Chan chuckled. She came closer to him. "I have some spare gold, you might get some of it if you see me out of here safely after we're done."

Chan thought for a moment. "Done. But only because you're a pretty steady source of income," and quitter than even before he added, "princess." He took a sack of Ruby Tears from his pocket. "Though I would like an extra coin for keeping your title to myself."

"Fine, whatever." She replied seeing no way around it for the time being. "Just give me the Dragon Dust." Even if it cost her, her dealer she'd refuse payment when she was safely away from the Ash Pit and could remind him that she could spill the location of his gang just as fast as he could out her for being who she was. She could lie her way out of the rest. Again she found herself reassured that she had not lost her cunning completely. It was a sublime feeling.

"Ooo," Yoko cocked his head. "She know the street names."

Ignoring him, Chan replied, "pay up."

She drew out the coins he'd initially demanded and tucked the rest away. She didn't let go of them until he let go of the Ruby Tears. And in her ear he whispered, "a pleasure doing business with you again, princess." She felt his hand on her lower back, a sensation she never imagined she'd feel again. For a moment, she thought she'd feel his lips on her neck, but he pulled back. "You lot stay put and don't stir up anything I won't be able to fix. I have to show this one home."

.oOo.

The dawn was just breaking and Azula was shaking all over by the time she found herself back in her room.

It had taken all of her valor to not give Chan such a display. Admittedly, he did lighten the stress some. With his gang a good distance behind him, he dropped his tough bravado some. They didn't talk much at all, but it made her feel better to know she had someone to watch her back for her. And in the end he only asked for a single extra coin, "just to have something to show the boys, ya know?"

The princess dropped onto her bed, the hardships of the night bombarding her in full. She was long overdue for a sniff of Ruby Tears. And she would have it after a quick nap.


	10. Chapter 10

The third day of his vacation to Hira'a left Sokka with an unrelenting itch to go home. He came to decide that he would begin urging them to head home, even if it meant giving an uncomfortable confession that he'd been visiting Azula on and off. Beneath the surface of the good time he was having, he had horrible feeling. It ate away at him as he leaned to cook traditional Hira'an food. It tugged at his mind as he part-took in a traditional Hira'an folk dance. On a normal day he would have been intrigued by how naturally the dances came to Katara, amazed at how well Ursa could still move through the motions as if no time had passed her by, and laughed at how spectacularly Zuko butchered all of the moves. Sokka himself retired early from the festivities, his head full of what if's and worst-case scenarios. Really, he ought to have stayed and kept his mind off of things; the solitude of his room called a forth many feelings he thought he had buried.

It hit him hard, the feeling of dread that had washed over him before Suki's boat departed. In full force his past mistake seemed to repeat itself. He ended things on a sour note with Suki, she died angry with him. And Azula…she seemed pretty alright with him when he'd last seen her. But he couldn't imagine that she'd take scorn and snubbing well, even if said snubbing wasn't intended. He shook his head, Azula wasn't getting on a boat. Azula wasn't traveling at all, she would be fine. He would come home and find her in her room, perhaps completely pass-out wasted in a corner or high out of her mind, but in her room no less and ready to give him a piece of her frayed mind. Still it would do him well to start pestering the others to start packing; with any luck they'd depart that night—or at least the next morning—and be home the next.

.oOo.

While Sokka began his pestering, Azula busied herself with her newly acquired Ruby Tears. The princess had to admit, she was still in a pretty elated mood, priding herself on just how many of her old skills she had retained. She need to leave her room. She needed that adventure, even if it only led her back to the very thing that was draining her in the first place. With needy hands and a horrific craving, she poured a neat pile of the dust onto her dresser.

Azula pulled a new much longer robe on over her arms before retreating to her bed. She buried herself in the abundant black and red silk of her robe and nuzzled herself against her pillows. For a while she lie on her back, staring at the ceiling until the ceiling seemed to dip and come to her. She lifted her hand to touch it and when her fingers grazed the surface it popped like a bubble raining shades of blue, purple, and white upon her. A look in the mirror showed her that she was covered in those different shades. She touched her cheek, leaving three parallel patches of her pale skin to show. From there she took to making a canvas of herself. For the first time in a long time—as far as she knew anyhow—she was a work of art. She longed to stay that way, to keep that feeling.

If she stared long enough, the colors on her skin would start to glow and shimmer leaving her feeling amazingly celestial. Azula took a seat upon the floor, intent on dwelling on those feelings for as long as she could before they left her to her misery once more.

She sat there for an indistinguishable amount of time watching clouds of feathers and snow drift down around her, she pushed her tongue out, waiting for a flake to fall upon it. She'd never tasted snow before. She also had never tasted a feather, so when one fell upon her tongue in place of the snowflake she had hoped for, she was surprised to find that it tasted like white chocolate and…coconut? She wasn't quite sure if that was an adequate description. But she rather enjoyed the flavor so she made a point of trying to catch more of the feathers.

Azula extended her arm and snatched at one but it moved out of her grasp, she tried a second and third time before it floated out of reach, prompting her to stand. Still, the feather drifted further from her. There were other feathers to be caught but she wanted that one because it was the biggest and because it was so determined to not be caught. She scrambled after it until it slipped under the crack in her door. Azula looked at the door reluctantly, it was late afternoon, people were bound to be up and about…

But she wanted her feather.

And she was feeling quite lucky, so the firebender peeked her head out of the door. She waited until the coast was clear before slinking out into the open. It took two tries to do so, the first time she managed to shut the door on the long trail of her robe. The second time she took the care to collect the excess robe and drape it over her arm. By this time her feather was aglow with a vibrant gold light and had burst into a cloud of twelve smaller feathers. She followed the cloud until it reached the hot springs where the feathers dropped into the water and fanned out into a delicate lotus flower. Azula cocked her head, wondering if that would still taste good. She reached out for her flower, leaning precariously over the ledge of the spring. The length of her wide bell sleeves dipped into the water. The former feather was afloat in the very center of the spring. Azula frowned, she didn't particularly want to go in the water, it would wash away the beautiful mural she had created on her skin. She looks down at the striking colors and then over at the shimmering lotus.

Maybe the water wouldn't be so deep.

Without even bothering to cast the robe aside, Azula dipped a foot into the water and then a second. With all said and done the princess found herself in waist deep, watching as some of the blues, purples, and whites swirl off of her and into the water. The colors churned and danced into an elegant spiral that found a center point at the lotus. The princess wadded further, wanting nothing more than to be a part of this sublime harmony.

Perhaps if she inhaled another dose, she could.

.oOo.

Sokka smirked to himself, all of his nagging and whining had paid off. Zuko wasn't too thrilled, he was having the time of his life in Hira'a, but Ursa didn't take it too hard. She assured the Fire Lord that they would return eventually. Sokka couldn't imagine that they'd be bringing him back any time soon, seeing as he had to pretend to practically hate it there to get them to take him home. One day he would offer a sufficient explanation, he would offer the truth.

They departed at noon, Sokka guessed that they would reach the palace some time in the later hours of the night. He loathed the idea of being on a boat, so he decided to join Aang on the saddle of Appa. He had been a seasick, paranoid mess on the way to Hira'a and had no desire to repeat that. Flying on Appa's back should get him home faster anyhow and Aang alone was lovely company to keep.

"So why do you want to go home so badly?" Aang asked. "I know you were having a good time in Hira'a."

Sokka peered into Aang's soft grey eyes. Those sympathetic, trustworthy eyes. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to get it off of his chest, if anyone would understand it would be Aang with his compassionate nature. "I've been talking to Azula."

"Oh!" Aang replied, "how's that going?"

Sokka scratched his head, not quite sure how to answer. "It was going well, I think. But I kind of forgot to tell her I would be leaving the capital for a few days." His scratching turned to timid rubbing.

"What's wrong with that?" Aang questioned.

"The last thing she did was tell me to go away. I don't think she wanted me to though."

Aang nodded. Sokka was certain that the avatar was ready to tell him that she would probably understand. But this time they weren't talking about Suki, so Aang bit his tongue. "I guess you'll just have to work extra hard to let her know that you didn't mean any harm."

"Aren't air nomads supposed to be great advice givers?" Sokka asked.

"I'm the only air nomad that has to deal with Azula…and questions about her." Aang shrugged, with a slight smile. "I think you're doing the right thing though, if that makes you feel better. She could use a friend right now."

"Yeah..." Sokka mumbled. He stared off at the clouds. "Hey?"

"Hmm?"

"This is between us right? Until I get a better grip on things."

"As long as you promise to let me know if you need help." Aang replied. Sokka could see the concern plain on the avatar's face.

"You have a deal." Sokka held out his hand for Aang to shake. At Aang's return of the gesture, he knew that their agreement was official.

.oOo.

Azula never did reach her feather. The lotus it morphed into shriveled and died before her hand could reach it. In her vain task all she had accomplished was washing all of the beautiful colors off of her body. She wanted them back more than ever so she wouldn't have to see her real skin with all of its old blemishes and new blotches. She tried just as unfruitfully to catch some of the colors, trapping them within the folds of her robe. The water dissipated the colors too quickly. She found herself frustrated to the brink of tears. Why couldn't she have one good thing? Just one, simple, little good thing.

She pulled herself out of the water and made her way back down the hall sopping wet and without any regard to the liquid trail leading back to her room. She had a singular focus; maybe another good sniff of Ruby Tears would get the lotus to blossom again. At the very least she could redo her mural. She ignored cries of annoyance from the servants who came upon her trail and the hand that tried to pause her stride. She ignored the fierce pounding on her door, thinking of nothing but her one goal. When had she acquired such a one track mind? It didn't matter.

Azula pulled out her pouch and took a second whiff as the rapping at her door continued. With the powder well and up her nose she turned to the door and snarled at them to leave her be. The knocking ceased.

.oOo.

All of the tension began to ebb away from Sokka's mind with the capital's skyline in sight. That majestic towering volcano, once so overbearing and oppressively large, now welcomed him back with a great cloud of comfort. Admittedly all he could see of the landmass was a fuzzy silhouette blocking the spread of cosmos around it, but he'd know that overpowering sulfur smell anywhere. Perhaps another few months in the Fire Nation and he'd finally become acquainted with it. Even with his nose unaccustomed to it, he was happy to be home.

Home…it was still so strange to think of the Fire Nation capital in such a way. But it had become home no less and he was definitely glad to be so close to it.

"You ready?" Aang asked, "To talk to Azula, I mean."

"Not really. I'm never prepared for that. But I want to do it." Sokka answered. "You don't leave a friend alone, ya know?" Immediately Sokka furrowed his brows. Had he just called her a friend? However strange it was to view the Fire Nation as home, it was odder still to think of Azula as someone he longed to support.

He almost didn't want to see the look on Aang's face. He turned around anyways to see the avatar smiling, "good, she needs one."

.oOo.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. A whole hour had come to pass and still the lotus had not bloomed. She'd even taken a third snort, but still it didn't show, not even a faint twinkle. Moreover, the ceiling refused to swell a second time. It would seem that it was all out of colors to shower upon her, just like the world was well and depleted of favors to do her. She slumped down on the floor feeling completely horrible all over again. She let the feather trick her. She let it coax her into washing all of the beauty she had added to her skin away. She was ugly again.

And with no way to paint herself in a more flattering light.

Her sorrow subside for a moment to make room for unfathomable anger. That feather. That fucking feather. It was like Sokka, it was there for the moment showing her all of the pretty things and then it abandoned her.

The rage fell away as quickly as it had come leaving her feeling melancholy again. Sorrowful but with a twinge of fear. Her emotions were scattered so out of place, it was frightening. They allowed her to access them in spurts, very short spurts, before they'd slip through her fingers like everything else. But one thing remained. A single constant. That constant was her misery and the self-loathing that came with it.

Azula could see them at the top most corner of the room; the colors, those incomprehensibly beautiful colors. But she couldn't reach them and they wouldn't come to her. The pretty didn't mingle with the ugly.

Azula held her head in her hands, shaking terribly.

Feeling dizzy and nauseous, she remained like so until a voice roused her from the position. It came from the opposite corner of the room where the vase rested smashed upon the floor. Though broken and fragmented, it spoke. Its sound distorted and as cracked as the vase looked. "A mess… dishonorable mess." She could distinguish. "To think…thought you were…prodigy." She wished she'd never smashed the vase, its words were twice as jarring when pieces were missing. "You disappointed…greatly." It didn't matter though, these were the same sentences it had spewed at her from the beginning and with all the power and venom of the man the voice really belonged to. It was as if her father was right next to her.

He kept talking on and on, inviting a few more voices, some that she knew and some unfamiliar, to join him. Each and every one of them sent her into a deeper low. Facing the wall, she could see their lips moving. Every time a new voice joined in, a new mouth would bulge out of the wall. Through it all, Ozai's voice remained the loudest, until finally another came to overpower his voice. This one at an impairing volume and with words sharper than even Ozai's. She would recognize it anywhere. Azula squeezed her eyes shut, but that didn't alleviate the sensation of a tongue licking her arm up and down, inside and out. It tasted every bit of her soul and worries and invited the other mouths to do the same. And when they had her well and tasted through and through, they spoke even harsher truths. They shouted thing very things she least wanted to hear. Though Azula hadn't opened her mouth at all, her own voice remained the loudest.

Azula backed away from the wall, retreating towards the center of her room, where the tongues could not reach. She apologized profusely to no one in particular and for a reason she couldn't gauge.

She just wanted the torment to stop, for everything to just go away and maybe if she apologized enough, it would.

But the voice, her voice, was just as cruel and merciless as she. Its advice was quite simple really, "smash and slash." For a moment it took her a moment to realize what it was talking about, but when she came to the meaning she decided that it's advice was good.

She picked up the nearest bottle and smashed it against the floor. Finding the sharpest shard, she took it in her palm. She made it no further when her chest constricted. She dropped the shard and crawled back against the wall. The nausea from earlier smacked her full tilt, and had her doubling over and spilling her guts until she lay face down on the floor. It hurt so dreadfully, the physical pain almost driving the mental torture away. But even through it, she could still hear them talking.

A shadowy figure came to join her, raking at her back with its long claws. Azula rolled onto her back, short of breath. The figure came to sit on her belly, a putrid muddy green ooze weeping from its lips, drizzling on to her face. She closed her eyes, hoping to keep that ooze out of them. She turned her head and her body convulsed under the imagined weight of the beast. For a moment, the creature seemed to have been bucked off, but it came back twice as unrelenting. It's weight pushed more heavily upon her. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't even bring air into her lungs, much less utter a cry of any kind. She had to get that thing off of her.

Another tremor shook her frail body, reminding her that she was much too weak and far too fatigued to put up a fight of any kind. So the vile being expanded, it's weight on her belly, much too heavy. It kept her chest from rising and set her lungs aflame. With the Ruby Tears yet to dispel, she could see the flames leaping from her lungs and springing out of her mouth.

Her vision blurred, dark spots rising within. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she put the pieces together. Air would not come to her, the beast made sure of that. It was smothering her and no one was around to knock it away.

And there it was, in the midst of her failing consciousness, her lotus, blooming bigger and golder than ever. She reached out and tried to grab it, but her arm was not quite long enough. Azula watched the flower shrink smaller and smaller still, until it was only a simple feather. It glided languidly into her outstretched hand. She tried to smile, for it was hers, she finally got her feather.

But her feather was too light and weak to offer her anything more than a brief moment of comfort and a blinding comprehension; for the first time in such a long time, Azula realized that she didn't want to die, that all of the scars she'd put on her wrists were mistakes, she hadn't meant it, she wanted to live.


	11. Chapter 11

The palace was throwing a fit.

Zuko barely placed a foot in before the man was sucked into its chaotic frenzy. Xanu pulled him to the side at the same time as head physician Kahno rattled something or another in his ear. Both had every intention of whisking him away, and seemingly to the same place.

"What's going on." Katara whispered to Aang.

Sokka studied Zuko's face intently as Xanu and Kahno scrambled to tell him their own variations of the same story. The Fire Lord's brows scrunched, his expression growing grimmer by the minute. Sokka's heart plummeted deep into his belly. He pushed his way throw a crowd of medical personal, through the ever-alert palace guard, and through the snooping gaggle of servants. With that awful feeling swelling in his chest, the fear-hazed walk to the princess' bedchamber was tauntingly slow. Slow and surreal almost to a point where the halls felt elongated. Her door was open when he got there.

He expected to see her lying cold and deathly impassive on her bed. Perhaps actually gone. Instead he found her sprawled out on the floor, motionless. If he didn't know any better, he would say that they simply didn't want to risk moving her. But he did, he knew much better. They didn't want to move her, they didn't care to. The careless splay she remained in, with her robe hitched up nearly indecently, told him that they were only so frantic as a means to keep their jobs, doing only the bare minimum to keep her alive...if even. He pulled her robe down and carried her to her bed. At least he wasn't completely and utterly useless. The lack of compassion they spared Azula chilled him to the core and angered him in a way that surprised him. How could they see a living, breathing—he cringed, to say she was breathing was still a bit of a stretch—human and just leave her on the ground? He took her hand, it was disturbingly cold, a sensation amplified by her heritage. A Firebender should never be that cold. Her face was drained of more color than usual, making the tear tracks on her cheeks that much more obvious. Wholly unnoticeable, in fact. Again, he wondered how so many people could take note of that and still leave her on the ground. Some kind of cruel punishment, he speculated, for all of the wrongs they felt she'd done them. He was enraged all over again; he had more reason to resent her than any of the palace personal, yet he couldn't bring himself to neglect her so. He held her hand that much tighter, he didn't know what else to do. He was going to lose someone else and he was powerless to do anything about it again. Maybe if he was an airbender he can bring the breaths to her or if he was a waterbender he could tend to her other injuries. But he was just Sokka; his space sword could only slash and his boomerang could only bash.

He clenched his fists in fury. He didn't exactly want to leave Azula, but he was so angry. Angry at the guards for not keeping a better watch over her. Angry at the doctors for clearing and releasing her from the institution so prematurely. Angry at the physicians and servants for treating her like an animal they'd found injured on the side of the road, maybe even less than that. Angry at her for being so reckless and self-destructive. And absolutely furious at himself for not being there again and for not being able to do anything when he was.

Without meaning to, he set her arm down quite roughly and stalked across the room where he slammed his fists into the wall with an incensed howl. He hadn't done so in such a long time, not since his father had to restrain him harshly against a wall to keep him from hurting himself. A few days ago, that time in his life seem so distant, but presently he realized just how little time had gone by. He punched the wall again, this time splitting his knuckles in the same way Azula almost did hers.

Azula.

He looked at the princess, she hadn't moved at all, not even a twitch.

He fixed his eyes on that pale skin, the slight part of her lips, her half-glossed eyes. It struck him that she must be dead. He'd never seen anything but a corpse in such a state.

Without realizing that he did so he tore from the room and stormed down the hall. He knew he shouldn't have gotten mixed up with her, he just knew it. But he let his gentle soul get the better of him. He was at the end of the hall as Aang and Zuko rounded the corner. He briefly caught the sympathetic concern in Aang's eyes.

He couldn't tell if it was meant for him or for Azula.

.oOo.

Sokka started at the sudden appearance of Katara. "Zuko's going to kill you." She motioned to the mess he'd made of his room.

"He can try." Sokka snapped.

Katara lifted her arms. "Sokka, I'm worried about you." She frowned. "I thought that we were done with this…" she gestured around her.

"So did I." He agreed.

"I don't know what you were thinking." When it became apparent that he had no clue what she was referring to, she continued. "Talking to her isn't good for you. You still have problems of your own to work on, and you're trying to fix her?" He voice oozed with contempt.

So she knew. They all knew, he took it. "I don't see anyone else trying to help." And he was fired up all over again.

"Well, she's awake."

Katara moved towards the door and stopped. With more empathy she added, "so you don't have to go through that again."

Azula was awake but Sokka couldn't bring himself to go to her. Truth be told, he was afraid. He didn't know what he'd see nor how she'd react to his arrival and he almost didn't want to find out. She was alive and that was what mattered. He truly tried to convince himself of such. But the more he thought about it, the less it made sense. He had just finished beating himself up for not being there for her, and there he was ready to distance himself more, instead of manning up.

He pulled himself from his room and wandered to the palace infirmary. The air in the room was tense and dismal. For the longest time Sokka stood in the doorway not quite courageous enough to do anymore. Azula was still laying very rigid, Katara had used the word awake very loosely. Somehow, she managed to look even sicker than when he'd first seen her. Her hair fell very limp, looking very brittle framing a face that he could barely recognize. Her eyes had no sparkle to them at all.

Sensing his presence, she looked up and told him exactly what he didn't want to hear. "This is all your fault."

A mix of anger and guilt bubbled to the surface. He didn't know if he wanted to admit that he truly hadn't meant to leave her alone for so long or if he want to finally throw some responsibility at her. He didn't know if he wanted to care for her or if he despised her and everything she was doing to him, just like everyone else resented her. Running a hand over his face he tried to see things the way she did. Tried to imagine the abandonment she must have felt. He had taken too long to reply.

"You can show yourself out."

"I'm not leaving." Sokka took another step into the room.

"Why is it that you only have a problem leaving me when I want you to." She hissed.

"I didn't leave you." He protested.

Azula quirked an accusatory eyebrow.

"Katara wanted to go to Hira'a with your mother and Zuko. I thought we'd only be gone for a couple of hours or a day." He explained. "I should have told you." Even as he spoke he didn't know if he believed himself. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he didn't owe her anything. He could have just as easily found inspiration and happiness in painting a different subject…one that didn't take that happiness back in the end. But that look, that pitiful look she'd given him only five days prior. "It was a careless mistake."

"I almost died because of your… 'careless mistake'."

Azula had many talents, and Sokka realized he had just uncovered a new one—his ability to push all of his buttons all at once. Or maybe it wasn't so new, she'd done it before, but never in quite the way she was now. Just like that his sympathy seemed to melt away. He was tired of shouldering the blame for everything bad that happened to everyone he cared—or tried to care—for. "My fault? You can't always have someone to hold your hand—."

"No one ever has."

He persisted, repeating himself. "It's not my fault. No, you almost died because you can't hold yourself together for three days."

She seemed to draw back further into herself and he realized that he'd cut pretty deep. He couldn't help but feel like she deserved it for nearly landing him right back in the place he'd just left. She spoke, "maybe you're right."

.oOo.

Azula rubbed her thumb over her wrist. Only a few hours ago she had so desperately wanted to live but she was steadily finding herself unsure of that again. Somehow, she knew that if she found herself suffocating again, she'd probably be begging anyone that would listen to spare her from death. Yet she couldn't imagine actually going through the motions of life; Sokka's assessment was more accurate than she'd ever have liked to admit. "If you don't want to 'hold my hand' then why are you still here? I'm sure I can figure it out myself eventually, I always do." She wanted to believe herself so badly.

Sokka studied her for a minute, seeming to test out a few words in his head before picking probably the worst string of them. "I'll leave you to it."

She spoke in the same way that a child being disciplined would, not comprehending what she did wrong. "You said that you wouldn't leave, so why are you leaving again?"

He fixed her with a hard stare. "I think that you know why I'm leaving."

A cry for help lie on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring it any further. She'd lost far too much dignity already. She tried to utter a, "don't" but couldn't bring herself to do that either. She could already tell that she was draining away his optimism, it would be right to just let him be on his way. To let him get back to his life. With any luck he'd be able to forget about her like everyone else did.

That would probably be better for everyone. Everyone but her. Azula looked at her shredded arms again, the scars seeming to burn and fester. Indeed, she wanted to live, she decided. But not like this. "Goodbye, Sokka."

I'll let you all interpret that last line as you will, for now. 0:D I feel like it was kind of a risky move lol.


	12. Chapter 12

She watched him leave with a large degree of regret and a decent knot in her tummy. But he had his own demons, she could see it on him, and she was making them stronger. But not nearly as strong as her own. Even if that wasn't the case, Azula knew that he was right, she had to stand on her own. She needed to get a grip on her own. She needed to prove it to herself that she could.

.oOo.

They told her not to leave the infirmary, but who would pay attention if she did? Who would care? She slipped herself away from the bed, a wave of dizziness nearly toppling her, but she worked her way through it. How was she supposed to stand on her own two feet mentally if she couldn't even do it physically? She forced herself from the room, emitting an air of indifference as she sauntered in the direction of the staircase. She tuned a careful ear to the whispers of the palace.

"She went nuts again." Spoke one serving girl in hushed tones, motioning to her head.

The other returned, "That's old news."

In snippets Azula heard a third say, "I heard… another suicide attempt."

"Now there's some news!" Exclaimed the second.

Azula had a few retorts at the ready, but she gathered that it was much better to let them think so than to hint that there was any other worser truth. Perhaps a suicide attempt was exciting, scandalous news for them, but it was still news just as old as her mental lapses. A drug scandal would be something else altogether and Azula wasn't prepared to face it. If things went right—and Sokka kept his mouth shut—she would never have to.

The journey to her room had taken a lot out of her. She ought to continue to lay down and give her body some rest. All the same she looked at her bed and changed her mind. She'd been laying too much lately. If she was going to live, she was going to live. Even if it killed her.

She tossed her black and red nightgown to the side. Carefully maneuvering over the shards of glass, never cleaned, she came to her closet. As she ruffled through various outfits she made a mental note to clean that later if she had any energy left to do it. At last Azula found herself something adequate; a very simple lowcut t-shirt spun of wool and adorned with her nation's black insignia and a cloak of the same make. She opted to continue to wear the sweatpants she'd had on all this time, telling herself that her little trip to the springs had cleaned them well enough. She didn't need anything fancy nor elaborate for that day's endeavor. The simplest would be arguably more suitable.

Azula slipped her pouch of Ruby Tears into her pocket alongside her kiseru and some fibers for it, picked up her bag, drew her cloak up, and made her way to the courtyard, listening as the palace guard frenzied to find her.

.oOo.

For the moment Zuko and Sokka sat unaware of the frantic energy the palace resumed. It had only been a day since he'd effectively abandoned her and he was already drowning in anxiety. All he could seem to do was wonder and ponder about how he could have handled things differently. A good chunk of him still wanted to check on Azula, to rise from his seat and burst into the infirmary. Her problems aren't the kind of problems a person is meant to tackle alone. Yet he didn't dare backtrack now, Azula wouldn't have it. And Katara would sooner cuff him to a pole then let him try.

Even if Azula's physical strength wasn't at its peak, she was—intentionally or not—a mental terrorist and he hadn't treaded carefully. No doubt, Katara didn't think he could handle the task. She and Zuko both.

"Honestly I don't know what I want to ask first." Zuko finally spoke.

Without even waiting for the questions to rise Sokka answered, "I started talking to Azula the day after I asked you how she was doing." He paused. "I thought it couldn't hurt to at least check on her, since nobody else was."

Toph spit out her drink. "Couldn't hurt?! Sticking your hand in an armadillo-lion's mouth would probably hurt less." Always one to take nothing seriously, the earthbender erupted into an unquenchable fit of laughter.

In no mood to deal with her quips today, even the ones that were meant to be harmless, Sokka focused his attention on Zuko. "I just thought I could help. I don't know why…I just thought that I could. So I tried."

"And you ended up hurting yourself." Katara frowned. "Sokka, I can't believe I'm saying this, but you need to think about you right now." She took a quick drink. "If you have to look out for someone, look out for someone like Zuko. He has plenty of problems, and he actually wants help."

"I think that you're just getting tired of helping him." Toph joked again. "I guess I don't blame you, Zuko is pretty needy."

Zuko gritted his teeth. "I'm not needy! I just have a lot to do around here and no one else wants to do any of it. Mai certainly doesn't."

Sokka sat back, thankful for the subject change, however brief it would be. All the same it left him with more time to pick his brain. He was worried about the princess. Three days alone was enough time for her to acquire more drugs and four was enough for her to overdose on them. He couldn't imagine what a week would leave her time to do. Especially now that he had made it adequately clear that she didn't have his support. He buried his face in his hands and groaned, successfully putting attention back on himself.

"You were painting her." Zuko noted. As if everyone at the table wasn't already staring at him.

"Why do you think that?" Sokka asked.

"I saw the painting Sokka." He pointed out. "The haircut threw me off. Until I saw the real thing."

Sokka rubbed his hands against his eyes. This was unbelievable in the most stressful way. "That's the other reason I decided to talk to her. At first, I just needed something to paint. I saw her standing in the window—I didn't recognize her at first" He added as if to justify something. "I thought she would be interesting to paint so I did it. It was the first time in a while that I actually enjoyed painting." The first time he enjoyed anything, he noted to himself. It sounded innocent enough as he phrased it.

"And then what happened, Sokka?" Zuko asked.

"I guess it felt wrong to paint a portrait of her looking so unhappy, enjoy painting it, and not try to talk to her." He knew it was a lie, but he wasn't about to admit that he felt as if he owed his happiness, however temporary, to her. He considered that it was only fair that she could take it away. With a firm glare he added, "just don't let her know about it."

"She doesn't need to know." Zuko agreed.

"Now that you know doing anything involving her is a mishap, are you going to forget about this whole thing?" Katara asked.

As frustrated…no, as completely angry with Azula as he was, it still touched him in all the wrong ways that they only referred to the princess as 'her'. It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did. He kept his mouth firmly closed.

"I don't know." Aang spoke up. Until then the boy had been observing so silently, Sokka had forgotten he was present altogether. "I think helping her might be a good thing for him."

"Good for him!?" Katara's voice fell halfway between her indoor voice and a shriek.

"She helped motivate him in the first place, didn't she?" Aang asked. "When we were on our journey to defeat Ozai, helping other people made me feel a lot better about my own situation. Some of them even offered me advice a long the way." He smiled. "Wasn't it the same for you?"

"Well, yes." Katara sputtered. "But this is…it's different. She's…"

"Just like everyone else her dad hurt." Aang replied, making a point of looking towards Zuko.

"She doesn't want help." Katara stood her ground. "Sokka said it himself."

"I was wrong." Suddenly, he was glad Katara was putting up a fight, it forced him to defend Azula. It forced him to reawaken his initial drive. Mostly it forced him to see things in a new way. "She just…she just doesn't ask for it." He paused. "Actually, I think she does, she just asks in a different way."

Katara considered. For a good while she was tensely quiet and he was sure that she was going to shove her chair in and storm away. Instead her expression softened. "Do you really think it would help you to help her?"

"I think it'll make me feel good to know that I can save at least one person."

"Alright, fine." Katara sighed. "I just want you to promise me that you won't blame yourself if you can't get through to her and something bad happens."

"What can be worse than what already did?"

.oOo.

Azula hadn't expected to make another trip to the Ash Pit so soon, if at all. No less, she was trekking the rickety, beaten path. She told herself that daylight would make it easier, that the vile people she'd happened upon before were of the night-dweller variety. But as she set foot across the border, she realized that she was simply re-entering a different world of awful.

The stench of trash and bodily waste was even worse under the fuming sun. The sun itself was a problem, having been so deprived of it, it assaulted her skin in the most tinglingly unpleasant way. She couldn't tell of the sweat was from the overbearing heat or from her craving of the Ruby Tears. She would ease it as soon as she had the chance. She spared the sun one last peer before continuing her stroll. In daylight, the houses looked worse as well. She could now see a collage of holes within their paneling. A good many of them also sported the burn marks of a break in, even more of them sported one or two charred on insignias. The flaming dragon head of the Kuroi-Hi and the triple-fanged prickle snake of the Rōka. She knew of them and their rivalry only by Chan's mention of them and his warning to steer well and clear of both, though he'd never bothered to tell her exactly what to look out for. Azula also took note of how much worse the fungi looked, seeming to shimmer under the sunrays. There were other slimes too, mostly crawling out of the waste systems but also seeping up from the cracks in the ground. The firebender took special care to step around the gunk while others took no notice at all, tracking it even further along the path—some with bear feet. Azula shuddered, mostly at the realization that she'd probably stepped in the mystery goop the first time she'd come. The grass she walked upon to avoid the gunk altogether, was nothing like that of the palace grass, or even the grasses beyond the palace walls. It was pockmarked with badgermole holes, the very same kind that the palace gardener constantly complained of back when badgermoles were first brought overseas. Here however, there was no gardener to complain about and tend to them, so they occupied the ground in numbers that competed with the count of stars in the sky.

Lost in her judgements of the place, Azula had forgotten to watch her back. She was awarded for her carelessness with a harsh shove. A shove that had her arms well and scraped and gave her a wonderful up close and personal experience with the slim she was trying to avoid. "If I wants you on muh grass. I'd invite you." Spat the offending woman. Azula noted the way her the woman's nose seemed to quiver as she spoke and the way her most rotted tooth—in a mouth full of decay—seemed to wobble. The woman spat again, this time at Azula's feet, before turning her back.

"You're lucky you have any lawn at all." Azula hollered, before she could stop herself. Her angry outbursts were becoming worse and worse. Coupled with an edge of impulsiveness, the woman's yard was aflame. The flash of blue went mercifully unnoticed, but the lick of orange left behind was quickly drawing a crowd.

"Ooowee." Uttered one man with a whistle. "Someone done went and set Mama Mozi's grass a'fyer."

Mozi wasn't agile by any means, in fact the woman stumbled just stomping up to Azula. But the princess, in her current state, was less so. She barely ducked under Mozi's first punch and sustained a pretty solid one to the chest.

A weak point. Breath was still coming hard to her without outside pressure. With aid from Mozi's fist, it refused to come at all. That didn't stop Azula from trying to get to her feet. Even if the attempt could have gone anywhere, Mozi was quick to bring it to a halt. The woman kicked Azula's cheek, sending her back down. Breathing grew harder still. This time the foul woman stooped over and slapped her, once and then twice and then her hand was balled. Azula deserved every punch, not because she set the woman's lawn on fire—no, Mozi could shove that one right up her ass—but because she was too weak to block any of them. At this point she found herself fighting to breath more than she was combating the other woman. As with the first time, Azula's vision was going hazy.

"Mozi, that's a nuff."

"Muh grass, was my grass. Nobody hurts Mama Mozi grass." Mozi panted. "No one step on Mama Mozi grass without askin' Mama Mozi first."

Azula felt a weight being lifted from her. The sound of footsteps shuffling away and a sense of bitter regret accompanied her into the dark.

.oOo.

"The princess has escaped." Xanu informed Zuko.

"How can she escape if you never told her not to leave?" Sokka asked. "Even if you did, you probably weren't paying much attention to her."

Xanu snarled. "Tell your water barbarian to curb his tongue, he's lucky to be in such a glorious place as the fire palace at all."

"Give him a break, Xanu, he's under a lot of pressure." Zuko replied.

"He's under a lot of pressure? I've had to make sure the princess stayed in safely in her room, question my own guards over a treasury break in, make sure everyone stayed back as we escorted the princess to the infirmary, all while trying to manage these new recruits—one of them kicked me in the balls and deserted, mind you—and now you're going to have me running all over the Fire Nation looking for the sorry bitch?" Xanu fumed. "Forgive me, Fire Lord Zuko, but that girl is nothing but a hinderance. You ought to have her locked away again. If she wants to run off, I say, let her."

Sokka couldn't help his snicker, "you got kicked in the nuts by a new recruit?" He tried his best to latch onto that image, it was the only thing keeping him from breaking down again. Once again it was falling on him, had he not left the infirmary, Azula wouldn't have. Agni, he is so stupid. He tried once more to picture Xanu and the new recruit. But all he could see was Azula getting herself into more trouble.

"If you don't want to look for her then don't. It'll probably better to keep this out of the public eye anyhow." Zuko replied, much to Xanu's delight.

Sokka opened his mouth to protest.

"I think it will be better if we look for her on our own, Sokka."

"I think she'd run from me faster than the guards." Sokka disagreed. But Zuko had a point, the less people who knew of the chaotic state of the palace, the better. "But we can give it a try." He couldn't imagine that she'd be easy to find.

.oOo.

Azula awoke to a sky bursting with stars and a rustling in her cloak. She kicked the elephant-rat away with a soft cry. Feeling completely miserable, Azula pulled herself to her feet. She was a literal bloody mess. She could only hope that the elephant-rat hadn't gone and played with the gashes on her cheeks. But elephant-rats were prone to that kind of thing, especially the ones that were starved enough to pester a living human. Perhaps it thought she was dead, she looked it. She shuddered again and drew the cloak tighter to herself.

"Mama Mozi know an uppa class girl when Mama Mozi see one." Mozi clicked her tongue and laughed. "What you doin' here?"

Azula couldn't be sure why she interacted, the woman deserved nothing more than a swift execution. But her voice came no less, "I'm visiting someone."

"A friend in these parts is no good friend. Mama Mozi know you ain't belong here."

"Maybe Mama Mozi, shouldn't be so sure." Azula grumbled, she drew her hood up and stalked away, wondering how the woman could possibly be talking to her like she didn't just knock a few hours away from her. These people were truly characters, and Azula liked none of them. The princess made a futile effort to rid her face of some of the grim it had picked up. She knew then just how easily a city like this bred rottenness. The people became the filth that plastered the streets, it was hard not to when it clung to their faces. She came across a passed-out figure, it dawned quickly upon her that it was the same one from her first trip. She cringed knowing that she'd just used a corpse as a landmark. The second body she'd stepped over was gone, but a new one had come to take its place, this one clutched a bottle and wreaked of the vomit around him. She quickly hustled away, stopping only to peer into the alleyway. A morbid curiosity drove her to see if the young girl was there. Azula didn't comprehend that she didn't want her to be, until she found the girl absent. She carried on, coming up to a group of rough looking men. Unshaven and dirty, one chewing tobacco, his worn bandana sat lopsided on his head. His eyes sparkled with longing as she passed. She didn't spy the triple-fanged prickle snake until it was too late to cross the street.

His hand was hurtling towards her. She wouldn't let herself be on the receiving end of another ass kicking. No matter how much energy it took from her, she ducked under the strike and landed her own, following it up with a merciless flash of lighting.

He might be dead.

She would let that be a lesson to his companions.

They couldn't possibly get to her once she was safely back within the palace walls.

Azula didn't let the exhaustion show on her until she was well out of their sight. When she finally had an adequate distance she collapsed against a dead tree and buried her face in her knees. Despite the tightness in her belly, no tears would come. Maybe she'd finally used them all up. She longed for home, but home offered her no company. And she longed for company more than anything else, even if that company would be the death of her.

She found the Spoke Wheel with ease and from there, Chan's shack. It was like she'd never left it at all, the only thing that had changed from the first time was the positions they all sat themselves in. Chest deep in a sea of her own foolish decisions, she was determined to make one that was less so. So instead of approaching with caution, she stomped up and took a seat like she belonged there, dropping the little items she brought with a decisive thump. Nine pairs of eyes came to fall on her, each sporting a different variation of the same shock. One of the boys threw his hands in the air, practically leaping from his seat "Wonderful to see you again, Minho." She greeted grumpily, arranging her belongings to solidify that she wouldn't be moved. Minho blinked at her.

There was a burst of laughter that belonged to the muscular girl. "You sure that's a girl Minho? She's got some balls, that's for sure."

Before she knew it, Chan had her by the arm and pulled her away from her perch and off to the side of the shack. "Azula, what are you doing here?" He hissed. "Don't tell me you ran out of your Dragon's Breath already."

Azula pulled the pouch from her pocket. "I still have plenty of it."

"Then why did you come back here?" He asked again.

"Maybe I think that the palace is getting dull." She replied.

"You can't stay here!"

Azula broke away from him for a moment to retrieve something from her bag. She came to stand before him and with the sassiest flick of her wrist that she could muster, unfurled a sleeping back. From it she pulled a nice and plush pillow. Chan blinked. He can do little more than watch her spread her sleeping bag across the floor. "Introduce me to your friends, we can tell campfire stories."


	13. Chapter 13

Sleep didn't find the princess easily that night. The fear of getting stabbed to death or smothered in her sleep weight too heavy on her brain. Sleeping with one eye open wouldn't be enough, she needed them both wide and alert. But she didn't want to go home, not after putting up such a fuss to stay. She fluffed her pillow, to give herself something to do and put her head back down. The night air was warm and merciful, if not, just a little muggy. But Azula longed for her bed and the luxurious comforts it offered her.

The night proved that the rest of Chan's gang, she had since learned was called the Nyūkirā, would let her be. Probably by word of Chan. Even so he urged her to sleep well and so, very late in the night, she found herself dozing off. The hushed whispers of Minho, Yoko, and a boy named Taeyul let her know that she was something of a strange creature to observe. Minho talked all too openly of how attractive he found her. He kept his hands to himself, but the same could not be said for his eyes—the weight of them seemed to follow her into her dreams.

The day to follow had gone by and it wasn't terrible, perhaps a little awkward but she had come to know the rest of the boys by name. Over the most pathetic excuse for breakfast that Azula had even eaten, she learned that Taeyul was the most timid of the lot, skinny and small—only an inch or two taller than she—but he was good with a knife. And that where he was shy, Yoona was social. Social but without a scrap of literacy. Her language was more broken than Yoko's. Yoko who was the gruffest of the lot. Only fifteen and had a full beard and the biceps of the most stereotypical earthbender. Azula had come to find that the Nyūkirā did have an actual earthbender. A boy who went by Boryuk, a boy who was missing an ear as it had been sliced off by his father before the man sold him off to the Fire Nation as a means to avoid imprisonment.

She began thinking over a false name to give them, but they never inquired.

Later in the day, after a trip to the industrial park Chan had been so eager to show her, the muscular girl finally opened up some. She gave nothing but the name, Bo-Rem and possessively warned Azula to stay away from Kohza as if she'd shown any interest in the first place. Wire was the last to introduce himself, apparently, he had another name but it was effectively replaced and forgotten after many mishaps with wire traps.

And of course there was Minho. Minho, who threatened to slit her throat on numerous occasions throughout the day. Minho, who had no sense of personal space. Minho, who spent the day making tactless remarks about her body.

Minho, whom Azula had found an unexpected connection with. The boy was the in just about as deep as she was. He spied the Ruby Tears in her pocket and asked if he could have a whiff. She agreed under the contract that he stop making comments about her chest. He showed her how to inhale it without leaving it to burn her nose and throat as it entered her system. She took the advice but—still shaken by her trip to the hospital wing—allowed herself a much smaller intake. After a quick sniff he muttered something of wanting to be free. With the Ruby Tears snorted, and a few cups of cactus juice in her belly, she allowed him to sling an arm over her shoulder and rattle on and on about the sunset and how her eyes reminded him of it.

She begrudgingly admitted to herself that it felt nice to have someone suggest that she had some beauty left, even if the attempt was executed sloppily.

.oOo.

"Are you holding up okay?" Zuko asked.

Determined not to vocalize how fruitless he knew their efforts would be, he took a page from Azula's book and danced around the question, "I'd hold up better if we stopped off for a snack." They had the whole of capital city to search and so far, in a day's time, they've managed to search a quarter of the innermost ring. By the time they finished that, Sokka imagined that Azula would be in a different location entirely. It wasn't like her to stay in one place. He supposed that he wouldn't either if he were trying to run away.

He'd lost track of how many times he uttered, "this is my fault you know?" or something like it. But he repeated it again because it was eating him alive. "What if she turns up dead?"

"Sokka, she can take care of herself." Zuko reminded.

"Can she? The last time I saw her she…she was so helpless. I think she's afraid."

"And she hates being that way. Now that you've seen it, she's probably out there trying to fix it."

Sokka stared at his platter of smoked sausage. He picked up his fork and pretended to have an interest in it. When his mood didn't seem to lift any, Zuko continued, "I'm trying to tell you that you did help her." At this Sokka's attention hiked up. "Just by seeing her like that, you got her to leave her room. I think that you made her want to help herself."

"Or," he countered, "I made her want to get more powerful…" He stopped himself, Zuko didn't know about the drugs yet. How could he keep forgetting? Why was he so careless?

"More powerful?" Zuko prompted him to continue with a rotating hand gesture.

"Um…that's it, I made her want to get more powerful." He finished awkwardly feeling like a complete moron. He hoped that his cheeks didn't show themselves as fiery as they felt. It would seem that he was just as bad at covering his new secrets as he was at hiding the painting.

"Trust me Sokka, she'll be fine, somehow she always is." Sokka couldn't tell if the Fire Lord was happy about this prospect or not. But he hoped with everything in him, that Zuko was right. He couldn't handle it if one more person died because he'd entered their life.

The sun fell from the sky in a hue so magnificent, he almost felt unworthy of seeing it. It had such a spark, such a vivid light. He hoped to have that for himself one day.

.oOo.

Looking at the capital from such a distance sent inexplicable chills down Azula's spine. It was glamourous, gorgeous, and splendid. The brilliance of lantern and fire light poured over the rim of the volcano and glowed against the skyline. It must fill the people of the Ash Pit with such an oppressive longing. Somewhere within she felt a pang of guilt and was thankful to have it interrupted. The city spat out a shower of fireworks, reminding her that it was her birthday. Some people in the Fire Nation still liked to celebrate it, probably more so for the sake of throwing a party than to offer her any love. From where she sat, the fireworks seemed to arch over the palace. Its own light was so radiant it may as well be a nation of its own.

Again, Azula felt chills. Seeing the palace from the Ash Pit was like looking at her life from an alternate reality. One where she had been born with nothing. Somehow it became hard for her to see herself back within the palace walls.

It rattled her more that, that didn't bother her.

The princess took a slow drag from her kiseru, watching more stars pop into the night one by one. Perhaps if she ignored the scents and the distant profane voices, she could pretend that this was a pleasant place full of ordinary people. She leaned back on her arms, bending one knee and extending the other. Somehow, she felt at ease.

"Thinking of going home?" Chan plopped himself down next to her.

"No." She replied, lifting her hand for another drag.

"I can escort you back if—" He broke off. "Wait, what?"

"No." She repeated. "I'm not thinking of going home."

Chan ran his hand over his face, she could see that she was causing him at least a trace amount of distress. "You can't stay here."

"You said that last night, yes." She nodded.

"I mean it, Azula." He hissed. "These aren't your kind of people. You don't belong here."

"And you do?"

.oOo.

His hand was on her waist, his lips on her neck. His father didn't exactly fancy seeing him with a disgraced princess. But Agni, she was a lovely thing. Especially when dressed in the showy and exotic silks of Ember Island with strings of golden pearls in her hair. His father was a hypocrite anyways, he knew that Chan had met her while in the institution himself. Her laugh delicate and charming, so refreshing to hear after listening to scream and cry herself out of wakefulness. He slipped his hand under her bangs and rubbed her ear. Her eyes only showed faint traces of her former imprisonment; being this close he could see faint bags beneath them, but they themselves glowed with life. She seemed happy and bright, he latched onto it, he needed such for himself. He kissed her neck again as his father looked on. Though the man didn't invade, deciding that the princess may sort herself out and make a suitable wife for his son after all.

Chan held her quite tightly, until she demanded that he get her something to drink. It was always demands with her—no please, no thank you, just an expectation that things be done for her. Such was her disposition and he supposed that he would work with it. She never really had anyone to hold her close as he did, she told him as much. And he hadn't had a real lover either. They were much the same in that regard, lovers only seemed to gush when they saw opulence. It was no surprise when she came to confess that she would have no lover from a lower class, she hadn't the trust for it. Justified or not, he had to agree after being used a good many times. That's what drove him over the edge in the first place, finding out that his girlfriend Jia and Ruon-Jian only got so close to get their hands on some riches. Having seen them tangled in the sheets made such astoundingly clear. He'd known Ruon-Jian all of his life, they had done the wildest of things together. It was all a ploy. He had leeched off of Chan for years and years and he'd done so without a fuck to give. That in itself drew him to the princess, who had been stabbed in the back by two of her closest companions. He wouldn't hurt her like that, he knew better. And she would pay him the same respect.

So he would pander to her and make sure Ember Island felt like a second home to her.

He came back with her drink and she motioned for him to sit. He did so, allowing her to sit on his lap with her back held regally straight and her legs folded. His arms were back around her waist as she sipped her drink and spoke of her war-time endeavors in Ba Sing Se. They always intrigued him, she had been only a child and yet the world bent to her, she made it. He rested his head in the crook of her neck. To think, as she accomplished the grander things, he was throwing ridiculous parties. Her conversation took a turn and she was soon informing him that they had met once before and that she was the one who had trashed his party. She said it with such a degree of pride that he ought to have been offended. But the memory seemed to make her smile, so he laughed it off—in retrospect it was quite humorous to see his father in such disarray, even if it had earned him a swift lashing.

Those nights, those first few weeks free of the asylum had been the best. So truly joyful he could have never seen the fallout. Chan couldn't be sure of what led to it—perhaps her happiness had been false the whole time, but she had snapped.

Snapped and lashed out and he took the brunt of it.

His father hadn't even abused him to the extent she had. It made him furious to know that he was getting beat down by another person he had grown so close to. So that time he fought back, he let her know that she was rotten on the inside. He let her know that her status didn't matter and he hit back. Even on that night, the look of regret in her eyes was notable. When she was fully lucid, that look was amplified to an unbearable extent. Chan could see it on her that she hadn't meant to hurt him, he was willing to bet that she didn't even remember much of what she'd done. So he invited her back into his home, offering to patch things up.

She didn't come back.

Not until many years later.

Not until after his father decided once and for all that his 'affliction', as he called it, was an embarrassment to the family name and promised to lock him up for good.

Not until well after he had made a name for himself, far away in the Ash Pit.

.oOo.

"What happened to you?" He asked.

Azula turned her eyes away from the skyline. "Hmm?"

"Is this my fault?" He asked.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific." She answered with a lazy sort of softness.

"Did I do this to you?" He tried again. Her lack of response prompted him to give it a third shot. "You were doing fine for a while." He clarified, "after they let you out."

"All you did was give me the drugs."

"But why did you ask for them?" He asked.

"It has nothing to do with you." She waved him off, wanting to have any conversation but that one. Of course it would have been easier to tell him that it was, in fact, all him—that he had driven her to it when breaking things off with her. Yet, she didn't want to hurt him again, that was why she refused to accept his forgiveness. But she didn't want to confess that she had never been okay to begin with, that she shouldn't have been cleared in the first place.

He might have sensed her momentary despair, he was rather attentive like that, for he was offering her shoulders tentative rubs. She stole a look at the rest of the Nyūkirā, they were mostly engrossed in a slum adaption of pai sho and paying she and Chan no mind. "Does it really bother you so much to have me around?"

"It bothers me that you're here, in this trashy place, when you should be in your palace with your servants."

"You think I'm going to lead the Fire Nation guard right to your camp."

"I guess that's one reason." He admitted.

"And the other?" She replied, setting a hand atop one of his.

"I got you involved with this and I want you out of it." He replied.

It was refreshing to hear someone actively try to take blame from her, especially after so many rounds of the opposition. At the same time, it coaxed the truth into the light. "I came to you for the Ruby Tears." It was plain and simple. As plain and simple as that she would keep coming to him for more until they wasted her away.

"And I gave them to you because I needed money." He reiterated, feeling her grip on his hand tighten. She turned to face him. He hadn't changed much, even begin on the streets, the years had treated him kinder than they had treated her. It was rather apparent that he was only a dealer and had no wish to consume any of what he sold. The funding he got from it may not have been sufficient enough to give him a roof—not a legal one anyhow—but it kept him decently groomed and fed. He hadn't the hollow and wasting look that she and Minho shared. Nor the malnourished look of Taeyul and Kohza.

"I don't think that I would have let you refuse." She insisted, just like that all of the problems she had pushed back since fleeing the palace came to the surface. She was supposed to be living again, she was supposed to be happy. Chan's thumb was on her cheek, wiping away an unshed tear. It felt right to have his touch back on her skin, so she slipped her and under his shirt in a way she hadn't in many years. She pushed herself closer and allowed him to return her gestures until her shirt was cast aside next to his. His lips longingly sucked the skin they had been deprived of for so long and her soul latched on to the affection it hadn't seen in years.

For a while, Chan's hands trailed up and down the length of her back as he supplied a generous amount of kisses to her neck, bringing back all of the sensations from their nights on Ember Island. Soon his touch moved from her back to her sides. He had to admit that it pained him to so prominently feel her ribcage as he ran his hands down, but she seemed content so he didn't let it show. His touch fell beneath the waistband of her pants and with a soft hum of pleasure, she slid her tongue over his chest.

She paused, catching Minho's eye. "I take it you'd like to join us?"

He nodded feverishly.

With a tantalizing slowness, she curled her finger, beckoning him over. For as much as he ogled her earlier on, he seemed hesitant to make the first move. She wouldn't make it for him, but she pulled away from Chan, exposing herself in full. "Come on then."

Minho removed his own clothing first before tugging at her pants. Just as she had in days gone by, she sat in Chan's lap, his hands brushing from her midriff to her chest with a slowness that suggested he feared that she was as fragile as she looked. His touch lingered atop her chest, offering her a euphoric massage as she offered her own talents to him. Minho took her as if he'd been deprived of her all of his life, with needy and rough speed. For that she preferred what he offered. His hands never left her hips and for the time being, she didn't want them too.

"I missed you." Chan whispered before giving her neck a careful nibble.

She tapped her fingers on his cheek, "I'll bet you did."

Maybe she it was the loneliness or the way it made her feel beautiful and wanted again. Or perhaps she was simply still decently buzzed. Whatever the reason, it felt so wonderful. Wonderful to have not just one, but two people holding her with unfathomable closeness. Two people lusting after her as if she were with chasing.

And late it the night it was wonderful to have someone lay next to her, tuck their arms under hers, and hold her. She didn't expect Minho to do so, and she didn't want him to, not at all. But Chan…she savored the warmth of his body pressed against her back.

Finally, she had a piece of her past.

A piece of the woman she was before her startling metamorphosis.


	14. Chapter 14

Azula expected the guilt to hit her in full upon waking. But only a shard of it came to greet her and that little speckle of guilt had nothing to do with Chan nor Minho. No, the regret lay in that she had given in again, as little as she put up her nose, she'd still had the Ruby Tears in her system. She subtly pulled herself out from under Chan's arm and slipped back into her attire.

"Mor'in" Yoona greeted, a bit too cheerfully. She could understand no more than that, but she pretended to, to the best of her abilities. But no matter how hard she tried she couldn't seem to pick out a meaning for, "Chan say he shew ya ound dusty 'ark." So she simply nodded in agreement, though she had no clue what she was agreeing with. In a normal day Azula may have told the girl to shut up until she learned to speak like a respectable Fire Nation citizen, but Yoona had taken a shine to her faster than anyone had in a while, so she would let the girl prattle on incoherently without vocalizing her judgements.

"So? Chan any good?" Bo-Rem asked.

Azula's face flushed some, leaving Bo-Rem with a wide opening. The princess couldn't blame her for taking it. "Oh right, I forgot, you're one of them high-born ladies. Do nobles not have sex?"

"We don't openly run our mouths about it." Azula shrugged. "We have standards and basic decency."

"Sounds boring." Bo-Rem grunted as Kohza muttered, "you can't talk of it but you have no problem displaying it for us all."

To that, Azula had nothing but excuses to give, so she held her tongue. As if she owed them an explanation anyhow.

.oOo.

"You really should take a break." Zuko suggested.

"Why am I more concerned for your sister then you are?" Sokka grumbled. "Why am I more concerned than her mother is?" He knew that he was pushing buttons, if he was nothing else Zuko was still a mama's boy. Not that Sokka would hold it against him, he'd be one too if his mom somehow came back. His heart ached all over again. His mother, Yue, Suki…he'd give the world to see any one of them again. For better or for worse he'd give a lot to see Azula back and safe too, and that was something he could accomplish. "Where do you think she'd go?"

"We'd be there if I knew." Zuko replied.

At least Sokka could say that he wasn't the only useless one around these parts.

"Do you think she'd go visit her dad?" Sokka asked.

Zuko chewed the inside of his lip, "I suppose that's a start."

"You're not going to make me visit him alone, are you?" Sokka asked. The drawn-out sigh told him that, as much as Zuko detested the idea, he would have his back. And the Water Tribesman chose to dwell on that, he had so many people ready to pick him up if he ended up driving himself to the bottom again. He wouldn't, he wouldn't go there ever again. He had fought too hard to lock his dark side away. "Welp, to prison we go."

"After you." Zuko held his arms out. Sokka took the lead, but only for a few minutes before realizing that he had no idea where the prison was. Wishful thinking had Sokka pondering what he would say if he found the princess curled up in front of her father's cell. He backtracked some and pondered upon the best way to approach Ozai. As pathetic of a state as he was in, Sokka still didn't want to offer the former Fire Lord any openings.

The guards greeted Zuko pleasantly and asked Sokka if he was enjoying his stay in the Fire Nation. With the details removed he replied that they have become a hospitable nation. With a, "don't hesitate to find us if he gives you any trouble," they were standing before Ozai.

"Where's Azula?" Zuko demanded for Sokka.

"Where's my mother? Where's Azula? How are you going to lead this nation if you can't even keep track of your own family?" Ozai taunted.

"Just answer the question." Sokka scowled.

"I haven't seen her in years. I don't want to." Ozai shrugged. "Unfortunately for you the feeling is mutual." He leaned back against the far wall, running his hands through an unkempt beard. His eyes sparkled with malice, pure unchecked fury. Though he had no place to unleash it and no means to do so, so that anger remained only in his loathsome eyes. Looking at the man wasting away, Sokka decided in retrospect coming to the prison was a foolish attempt—Azula would never present herself to her father in such a disheveled state, even if she had that in common with the man.

"Tell us where she is." Zuko demanded again.

"He hasn't seen her." Sokka said dejectedly. "She has higher standards than this." He gestured to Ozai. "And we have better things to do with our time."

"Well where would she be?" Zuko interrogated.

"Wherever she wants to be." Ozai smirked, "you didn't really think that you could cage her forever, did you?" He stretched his legs. "Even at her worst she'll always get the better of you."

"She can also get the better of herself." Sokka muttered, it wasn't missed by Ozai.

Ozai's malicious grin spanned wider. "Perhaps she should. That would make things easier for the rest of you. She has little honor left, she may as well use the last of it to…"

Sokka edged closer to the cell, "If only you had the same decency."

Zuko set a firm hand on his shoulder. "He's baiting you, Sokka, let's go."

"Does your whole family hate her?" Sokka asked once they were back in the light of morning.

Zuko's eyes softened. "I don't hate her. I just, I have no idea how to handle her. Every time Iroh and I have tried, we only made things worse. Maybe after you get her to open up to you, you can get her to open up to us."

Sokka laughed. A distorted, half-genuine, half-sarcastic sort of thing. "I guess I know I'm in trouble when you're the optimistic one."

"You're doing fine and you're going to keep doing fine." Zuko assured him. "And since we're being optimistic, I guess I'll suggest that this is a good thing."

"A good thing?"

"You finally have something to get you off of the palace grounds and it will probably do Azula some good to know that someone cared enough to worry this much about her." When Sokka's mood didn't lift any he joked, "So just don't let her know how hard you searched, for the sake of all of us."

"Yeah, I'm sure Azula will be flattered to know that a peasant was scouring the town to find her." However sarcastic his words were, he considered that Zuko was right. He couldn't imagine how awful he would feel if no one searched for him. Despite Zuko's warning, he would make a point of letting Azula know how concerned her disappearance had made him.

.oOo.

They day was just as muggy as the one before it. Azula was growing tired of walking, she absolutely missed her palanquin rides. If she had her way, they would be back in the shade of Chan's rundown shack, she vocalized as much multiple times and had her mind set to do it again. Chan led them around another corner where they stood before a rickety overturned ostrich-horse carriage. The old thing was missing a wheel and rotting from within. It was alive and dancing with a host of shimmery slug-mites. "That's disgusting." Azula muttered.

"Ya gets used to them." Minho declared.

"Maybe you do." Azula turned her nose.

"They're actually quite fascinating." Wire spoke. Looking her straight in the eye, he plunged his hand into the swarm and extended a palm full of the withering insects.

Azula could feel her eye twitching. "Get those away from me." She had enough health problems as it was, the last thing she needed was to go home with a head full of lace or a nest of those vile things crawling beneath her skin.

"I don't know, I think they're kind of cute." Bo-Rem agreed, plucking a single slug-mite from its perch. She practically shoved the thing into Azula's face.

"All of you are disgusting." She muttered, and to herself added, "not that I expected anything more from a bunch of unapologetic peasants."

"This right here marks the start of Kuroi-Hi territory. As wonderful as those slug-mites are, you all should keep your hands off." He explained. "For all we know it could be rigged." This sentiment was mostly directed this at Wire who held his hands up in surrender.

"Amazing, truly delightful." Azula stated sarcastically. "All the more reason to head back to your territory."

Chan slung an arm around her shoulder. "You mean you aren't enjoying the views?"

"Not at all." Azula grumbled. "This place is gross, it smells horrid, my feet hurt, and I'd like to get back to my Ruby Tears." Her kiseru just wasn't cutting it at the moment. "Maybe if I have enough of them, I'll enjoy this little traipse through the filth." She had a striking feeling that even the most potent whiff of Ruby Tears wouldn't be enough.

"Yous a buzzkill, pretty lady." Minho remarked, slipping far too close into her personal bubble.

Azula shrugged.

"We're probably better off as far away from the Kuroi-Hi den as we can get." Chan agreed, "but we won't be going back just yet."

"Are we going to show her The Rumble?" Boryuk asked.

"The Rumble?" Azula asked.

Chan grinned, "The Rumble it is." He led her down another broken path, if what they trekked on could even be called at path. It was more or less a stretch of ground that had been walked upon so much a path had bore into it. Chan was ratting on and on about the many splendors of the Ash Pit while Minho talked endlessly of his own history in a sorry attempt to get her to open up about her own. Azula found his curiosity flattering but somehow faintly threatening.

"Can I sees your house. I never see a rich people house before." He asked at one point.

To which she abruptly responded, "absolutely not!" And he was back to chattering away. Both he and Chan lost her attention eventually. She had curiosities of her own and found her focus drawn to the oddly innocent things. They passed another tumble of shoddy houses with flaccid shudders that rasped endlessly against the paneling below. A good deal of the windows were cracked or missing altogether, they had all the elegance of something long abandoned. Something that may have been dazzling when it was first constructed, but had fallen prey to abuse and neglect, with no one to tend to them. One such house had a stream of six or so dirty children running about the yard. They were as scrawny as any other inhabitant and a few of them bore harsh looking cuts and bruises. But they were smiling. Smiling and laughing as if things were alright. They were tossing a wad of off white cloth back and forth to one another. Eventually one of the kids unfurled it and held it out for a second to grab. When it was stretched as far as they could manage, the other four began tossing rocks, seeing how far they could get the stones to ricochet.

Minho followed her gaze. "Them is Mama Mozi's"

Azula crinkled her nose, "Mozi has that many kids."

"Ain't nonea them hers." Yoko put in.

Further down the road an alley offered Azula the sight of a man with a koto, five of its strings had long since snapped, leaving any song he tried to play somewhat incomplete. Not that his audience cared. Though Azula hadn't known any cats that did. She watched them purr at his feet as though they thoroughly enjoyed his melody. "He's not very good." She remarked.

"I think his music is nice." Taeyul mumbled. Azula almost didn't hear him. "He played me a birthday song once, but I don't think he 'members it."

The princess shrugged. "If that's what you call music." Truth be told, she was quite intrigued. She'd only ever heard music after it was practiced and rehearsed dozens of times and played on instruments in the most well-kept state. So much of this was new to her, only having seen it in passing while in the Earth Kingdom. There was a certain culture to it—not as good as the culture she was custom to—but culture no less. At the sight of a mother hand in hand with a little boy, she realized that the Ash Pit may have a soft glow to it after all. Of course Chan would give her no time to truly come to this conclusion, he turned her attention to a large dome in the ground.

"Welcome to The Rumble!" He swept his arm out.

Azula peered over the edge, narrowing her eyes at the sight. She sighed, but really what had she expected? Within the dome was a cluster…no, a swarm of rough looking men and women of varying ages. Ages that ranged from twelve to maybe twenty-six. Each and everyone of them was brawling. No one was fighting anyone in particular. More so they were collectively and senselessly trying to beat the shit out of each other. "What are they fighting over?" Azula asked.

Bo-Rem quirked her brow. "Nothing?"

"What do you mean, nothing?" Azula asked.

"They're just fighting." Bo-Rem shrugged. "It's pretty simple, you just jump in and start punching people." Something told Azula that this was one of Rem's favorite pass times. "Let me show ya!" She hollered before making a running jump into the pit. Her jump was careless, landing her atop a man thrice her weight. He slugged her in the arm before his attention was pulled in an other direction. Azula's squinted even more, as if that would help her make sense of the spectacle before her.

"Come on in!" Bo-Rem invited.

"Ehhh. I'll pass." Azula muttered, completely unable to make sense of such an activity, and completely appalled.

Before she could do much more, Yoko bounded past her and into the chaos. "I didn't invite you." Bo-Rem kicked him in the shin.

"I aint ask fer yer permission." He replied with a kick of his own.

"Ugg, this is the most pointless thing I've ever been exposed to." Azula grumbled. Really, she ought to make a criminal offense of stupidity like this. She made a mental not to illegalize showing her such tasteless sports. "Who started all of this anyways."

"No one knows." Chan shrugged. "Just started one day."

"Wuzza rumor that it weres a keppl oo starded it. Cuz guy went chee'tin 'n so she were mad 'n done hiddim real hard. Then his udder girl hid em bot n s'more peop'l join in." Yoona explained.

"Translation please." Azula peered at Chan.

"She's trying to tell you, that there was a rumor that a couple actually started The Rumble. Girl caught her man cheating and slapped him a good one. The second girl smacked him and the first. Some third-party person thought it looked like fun and joined in until there was a whole crowd."

"How uncivilized." Azula remarked.

Dusk had a chance to set in by the time Bo-Rem and Yoko emerged from the pit, bloodied some but beaming from ear to ear. "Woo, what a rush!" Bo-Rem slung a rough arm over Azula's shoulder.

"Don't touch me." Azula rolled her eyes. Her own blood was enough for her, she didn't need anyone else's on her shirt.

"She'll have fun one day." Khoza wiped some of the blood from Bo-Rem's brow.

Chan offered a conniving smile. "You'll join in one day and you'll enjoy every minute."

"You be one of us, pretty lady." Minho added gleefully. Something told Azula he would like nothing more.

"I feel like Agni is more merciful than that." Azula rolled her eyes.

.oOo.

There was no worse feeling than walking home empty handed with nothing to show. Sokka was beginning to wonder if there was a point in searching at all. He hunched over his nightstand and hid his face in his palms. He was so frustrated and angry. He used to be a pro at tracking people, it was one of the skills that made up for his lack of bending. He reached down and uncovered his canvas. It was growing dusty and he'd made no more progress on it since he'd traded it for the real thing. With the real Azula missing he may as well finish this version of her. The version of her that started this downward spiral.

Maybe if he finished it, she would come home.

.oOo.

Azula awoke to a heated argument over the best way to roast a possum-mouse, reminding her all over again of her location. Her back ached like never before, these nights of sleeping on the ground were finally taking their toll. "Will you all keep it down." She snapped, rubbing her temples. Another round of cactus juice, downed well into the night, burst within her skull. Everything that happened after getting 'home' from The Rumble was a blur. But she could put two and two together. Chan was once again glued to her side and her top was discarded some feet away. It was growing so filthy she was reluctant to pull it back over her head. Her blessing that morning came in the form of Minho passed out yards away with a dusting of Ruby Tears on his jacket. At least she wasn't drunk enough to invite him for round two, she didn't fancy him growing attached to her. Though she faintly recalled snorting a bit of the stuff next to him. "What a night." She muttered to herself. Another loud whoop from Bo-Rem as she slammed Yoko's arm down on their makeshift table had Azula at her wits end. She had demanded quite and they best give it to her.

She stormed up to the arm-wresting pair with a purpose. "I'm pretty sure I told you to keep it down. No wonder you all live in a place like this. You can't follow simple commands. It's incredible."

"What bit you in the ass this mornin'?" Bo-Rem asked.

Azula's lip twitched. She was in no mood for silly peasant games. "I have never come across such an unapologetically uncultured group of people…"

Bo-Rem interrupted with an exaggerated yawn. "Anyone else getting tired of hearing her complain and judge like she has the right to?"

Yoko nodded. "All she do is whine 'n beg for drugs 'n then whine 'bout the drugs."

"That ain't true." Minho put in.

"Right, she also have sex sometimes then go 'n pretends that she still got more class 'en us."

"C'mon she ain't that bad." Minho disagreed. "I kinda likes her."

"I do have more class." Azula mumbled, rubbing her aching neck. Perhaps it was for the best that her indisputable vocalization of the truth had went on ignored.

"You only say that because she let you fuck her." Bo-Rem argued, with Taeyul shaking his head in agreement. "She ain't worth much more than that though."

"Just another one a them nobles who think they ken last here." Wire added, pushing his cracked glasses up his nose. "She couldn't even handle the slug-mites." He added woefully.

At last they acknowledged her presence again, "You have no idea what you're doing here." Kohza's words were touching her in all of the wrong ways, bringing a fury to her soul. "Maybe up there," He pointed to the main capital, "you're the brightest there is." He paused. "But here, you're duller in the head than both Yoko and Yoona."

Azula's cheeks were growing blotchy with anger. For all of the times she'd kicked herself, calling herself a fool, she wouldn't hear it from some street-dwelling low life. She fixed her tongue to holler back, but as soon as the first word made it out of her mouth, Kohza spoke up and over her. An action not lost on Azula, the man had waited until she was ready to speak, to resume his own raving.

"The only reason you're here is to get your fix. We got a name for your kind."

"Oh?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"Ruby whores. You inhale it until it hurts, say you're gonna stop, and go right back to it. We've seen your kind before, the high-bloods who need a little kick to get them by. You have the tears, so you can be on your way until next time."

Azula snarled, having been called a slut twice too many times she felt the heat rising to her fingertips. But Kohza persisted. "You can't handle us, you can't handle our lifestyle." He jabbed his finger into one of the bruises on her head, "You already got your ass beat once on the way here. Take your drugs and head back home before you get yourself killed." Kohza spoke in a way that told her that his advice was offered more to get her away from him than to keep her protected. "Or worse."

"I assure you, I'll be just fine." Azula insisted, letting a dangerous edge slip into her voice. She was talking big, knowing very well that she still hadn't regained the strength to back it up. No, she was still teetering on the twitchy, deprived side. But she'd sooner die than let these cretins demean her like so.

"Will you?" Kohza took to his feet. He beckoned Wire and Yoko forward. "How about you prove it then?" As Bo-Rem edged closer, Yoona drew back. So it would be four verses one, Azula pondered to herself, it always seemed to happen like that. She rubbed the remaining visages of sleep out of her eyes and came to meet them. It was hard for her to believe that she'd only just woken up and she already had a beat down in store. She had yet to regain her vigor but she would hold her ground. More determined than ever to keep to keep a secret of just how high her status was, Azula would have only her bare hands at her disposal. Her game would be defense, until her mind finally woke up and offered her the kind of impressive strategies she was once known for.

Kohza took the first swing. As per usual she avoided it with a degree of ease. As well as the second and third. But she was tiring fast and Bo-Rem decided to introduce her fists to the battle. Of course Bo-Rem had to back her lover up. Yoko was next to join the battle, Azula figured that he was waiting for a chance to show her his brawn. Casting, his spectacles aside, Wire jumped into the tangle. So that made the four. She could dodge two sets of hands, maybe three, but four was pushing it. Yoko delivered the first blow, a quick punch, meant for her head, but found her arm. It succeeded in throwing her balance. She fell into Wire who shoved her back at Yoko, this time he landed his mark. She knew she was as good as done for but that didn't stop her from trying. Azula found it in her to throw some lighting, one burst to take Yoko down and the next, a resentful shot at Kohza for starting it all. In taking Kohza out, Bo-Rem came at Azula with an enraged yowl, body slamming her to the floor, and effectively stealing her breath away. Taeyul took it upon himself to tap in. Being so scrawny, he decided that firebending was the way to go. The princess admitted it was only fair since she'd used hers. The same couldn't be said for Boryuk who encased her arms in a hold of rock. As Bo-Rem came barreling at her, Azula kicked a blast of fire, so weak it lacked it's usual blue, in her direction—as it came so unexpectedly—the move served its purpose, her foe had stumbled and fallen. No sooner, though, were her feet bound safely with in another layer of earth. The first kick, delivered courtesy of Wire, landed on her ribs. She hissed in pain but would do no more. Abruptly, Azula understood why Chan had been so delicate with her—her small frame suddenly felt so breakable.

Chan himself, was still fast asleep and she refused to cry out to him. Doing so would only prove Kohza right. She held her body rigid and unflinching. She could thank her dad for that one thing, her one uncanny ability to let herself go numb to the physical. She could thank herself for managing to cling on to this skill, it was probably the most useful one she had in light of things.

Soon even Yoona and then Minho were offering her a few kicks. With each one she silently swore to herself that, she'd have the place razed and this miserable lot locked away to rot as soon as the power fell back into her hands.

She caught a glimpse of Chan looking over with such an amount of pity it was degrading. But he said nothing, he did nothing. And she still refused to ask him to. For how long they kept their attack up, Azula couldn't gauge, but by the time they were done with her it hurt to breath and she was fighting back tears.

As she lay on the ground, with her lip well and split and Mozi's cuts reopened, she wondered how much more abuse she would have to take. A seething hatred filled her soul. A hatred for the world that wouldn't cut her a break. A detestation of the group, now distant, laughing at and mocking her defeat. A loathing for Sokka who had promised to stay by her side but left her to her own destruction. But most of all an irrevocable repugnance of herself for sinking even lower than she thought possible. They were right, she should go home, at least there, she'd grown accustom to the miseries. And yet she didn't belong there either. She didn't belong anywhere. Her hair clung to a face sticky with sweat. The dirt and pebbles below added a fresh irritation to the new gashes on her cheeks. Azula rolled onto her side and coughed until a fresh trail of blood trickled from the side of her mouth.

So much for truly living life.


	15. Chapter 15

Azula pulled herself up, sore all over. She threw her belongings into her pack with such an alarmingly unnecessary fury. She'd stayed the night to prove that she wasn't afraid, but she no longer desired their company. She didn't desire any company at all. She supposed that deep down, she'd always felt as though she belonged alone.

"Here." Chan made off to dab at her head with a wet cloth.

She slapped his hand away, "don't touch me."

"I should have stepped in."

"I didn't want your help." She frowned and continued to fold her sleeping bag. With a sharp hiss, she clutched her ribcage.

"Let me see it." Chan reached out again.

"I said don't touch me." This time her holler was loud enough to get a rouse from Taeyul and Wire. Even as she did so, she lifted her shirt some. She cringed at the sight of her sides, they were bruised and swollen all the way up, making it hard to move at all. She wouldn't abandon her task though. She would get an extra pouch of Ruby Tears from Chan and be on her way. She tightened her bag shut.

"You really gonna leave us, pretty lady?" Minho asked.

"You won't miss me."

"That ain't true."

"Ain't it?" Azula mocked, she tugged up her shirt. "This is your fault. You and Yoona." He flinched at the display. "Oh, I know what this is about. You just want more of this." She hitched her shirt up an inch or two more, something she'd been all too good at lately. "That's all you wanted, wasn't it?" Two days late, the regret was setting in. Loneliness and desperation had made her easy. She recalled how he'd first leered at her, how could she have been so foolish? Azula tossed the pouch between her hands. Maybe Kohza was right, maybe she was just a ruby whore. She dropped herself back down. "Well, you got what you wanted, don't think you'll get it again."

"That weren't all I wanted." She thought she heard Minho say. "It were at first, maybe."

Azula ignored him. She would sit for a moment more and be on her way, whether Chan wanted to help her home or not. A drawn-out puff from her kiseru helped relax her frayed nerves and seemed to take the edge off of her physical pains. She looked in the direction of the palace, in the direction of home. How many people would be waiting for her? Waiting to drag her back to that loathsome institution. Azula laughed to herself, she'd like to see them try.

The heavy sound of footsteps indicated Bo-Rem lurking before the girl announced herself. Dropping a token made from a rusty, beaten scrap of metal into Azula's lap, she said, "You're leaving? And here we were gonna let you join our gang."

The princess had no appetite for sarcasm today. She turned the shard of scrap metal over in her hand regardless. It was cut in an almost perfect circle with only a few sharp edges and bore the double-edged dagger of the Nyūkirā. She flipped it over again, the back had two engraved letters an 'P' and an 'L'. In certain light, the metal chunk had a red sheen to it.

"Boryuk didn't know what to engrave in the metal for the initials." Bo-Rem stated. "So he just went with Minho's nickname for you."

Azula furrowed her brows, thinking back to Mama Mozi. Of her many questions, she didn't know which to ask first, so she asked the simplest? "Boryuk can metalbend?"

"A little." Boryuk shrugged, as if it wasn't an accomplishment at all.

Azula came out with the more pressing question. "What is with you lowlifes and pretending like nothing happened."

"That kinda how it be here, pretty lady." Minho replied.

"We fight all the time, get it out, then it's over." Khoza shrugged. "'Stead of dragging it out like they do in high-class politics."

"You just let it out all at once and get over it." Wire added.

"We also had to make sure you could handle us before letting you in." Bo-Rem replied.

"That how it work 'round here." Yoko declared.

Azula spared the palace another glance and then turned her eyes to the trinket in her palm. An initiation process, she mused to herself. She supposed any group worth while had some type of hazing to go with it, Agni knew she wouldn't have let just anyone join her posse. She slipped the token into her pocket.

"So is you leavin' or stayin', pretty lady?" Minho asked.

Her clothes were dirty beyond all compare, she longed for a nice hot shower, and a meal worth eating. Azula looked longingly at the palace. It would be another impulse decision that she would come to regret, but for now the Nyūkirā felt like real friends. They were rough and unstable, fickle and unpredictable but she was just as so.

Chan tossed her a bottle of cactus juice. "So how about a trip to the industrial park? We could have a few drinks, make a little noise…"

.oOo.

She's been gone for a little under a week and not one person has seen her. Or maybe they have but just didn't realize it. Sokka wondered if her haircut had made her look that different. It couldn't have, Azula had changed a lot but she was still Azula. He could see it on her, he didn't even have to look, she had a certain aura about her. Sokka ran his fingers through his hair, how could this have happened? Why did he care so much for her? She'd never given him a reason to feel this much distress over her disappearance. She needed someone, but why did it have to be him? Because, he decided, I was crazy enough to give her a try. Despite it all he had a bit of a weakness for caring for those who were usually looked down upon. And after his brush with his darkest nature, he had a weakness for seeing the humanity in the least sympathetic of people.

Yes, at her core, Sokka decided, Azula was in pain. Lost and in pain, and confused. Perhaps afraid even. None of those traits looked well on her and none of them seemed characteristic of her. That may have been particularly why he found himself overcome with stress and worry.

As Sokka swept his brush over the canvas, he couldn't help but recall her as he'd last seen her. She was so delicate, as close to death as she could very well get without falling through the thin veil. His brush glided faster as his mind raced. He was almost finished painting on her robe. It was lacking some in texture, but that only seemed right as his life in general seemed to be lacking texture lately.

Images infiltrated Sokka's brain; he saw the princess laying broken and naked in some dirty back alley, she turned to him and asked why he had left her. This image flickered away, only to be replaced by Suki underwater with her arm outstretched, she was asking him where the hell he was. The images seemed to blur together and their questions intertwining. He put down the brush, his hand trembling too much to pain right.

He tore down the stairs, knowing that he had to find Azula. He had to find her right then.

If he didn't he would find her dead.

Just like Yue. Like his mother. Like Suki.

.oOo.

The industrial park was the husk of an old war age factory. Like most of the wartime relics, the defeat of the Fire Nation put it out of use. It's various smoke stacks were barren of their usual puffs and much of its coal had been coughed up and scattered around the dead grass and dirt. Azula knew this factory by its logo, it was the very same one that had pumped out the drill she had overseen a long time off. Spare pipes, cogs, and sheets of scrap metal unutilized were discarded in careless heaps around the park. Azula found herself sitting on the massive rail tracks, once used to transport the drill safely from one end of the park to the next. It was a jarring sight to look down, the hole beneath the track was big enough to swallow her whole. She spied the rusting corpses of war machines deemed unfit to fight for the purpose they were designed. Great machines that weren't grand enough, discharged before they had a honor of joining the battle. She almost wished that, that could have been her. She leapt down and wandered over to one that may have been a prototype for her tank. It was beaten and unmovable now, but it still looked like it could shatter the terrain it trekked. She wondered what happened to her old tank, one day she would have to drive it again. But for the time being she accepted Chan's cactus juice.

One bottle had Azula's strides a little clumsy. Two made every stupid remark made by Yoko, absolutely hilarious. Two and a half, and Yoona's speech suddenly made complete sense. Three had her giggling hysterically when Chan tried leaping from a pile of stone blocks onto a pile of rusty beams, he missed by a bit and took a hit right to his manhood. Four bottles had her trying it herself, with more success but just as little grace.

She had to admit that she was having the time of her life. They had taken her on a great many adventures throughout the day; they had taunted a wild kimodo bull, leapt through a broken window to steal a dented kettle just to see if they could, stomped across Mama Mozi's lawn after she'd turned her back, and tested their parkour when she'd chased them down. Azula would argue that the kind of leaps and turns they preformed were worthy of high praise, but apparently the owners of the homes used in their show were more concerned with the unwanted intrusion than the impressive display. Their show was cut short when Azula got a first hand demonstration of the reasoning behind Wire's name. They were doing splendidly, with a new burst of energy courts of the cactus juice, Azula had leapt from one roof to the rickety balcony of the house below. It sent jarring vibrations through her bruised and swollen ribs, but she didn't notice through her buzzed daze. From there she used the rails to fling herself upon the scaffolding of a house never finished, leaping from one crossbeam to the next. It would seem that the building was privy to invaders for it was rigged all over. Azula had taken the care to dance over and weave through each. Chan and Taeyul not far behind. A loud "ah fuck," and a decent thud caught her attention. She looked down to see Wire hanging precariously by his feet a story below. Between the ten of them, Wire was free, but his ankles were torn pretty horribly. Thus their rooftop adventure was cut short, all was well though, they had lost Mozi blocks back. And so they came to arrive at the industrial park earlier than planned where Azula had just finished one upping Chan. She finished with a bow that sent her into sudden vertigo. She stumbled forward and toppled over, rolling on to her back laughing. A few feet away Khoza started a round of slow claps—she couldn't be sure if they were for Chan's stellar landing or for her elegant bow.

"Ey, pretty lady" Minho called from his place atop a pile of discarded pipes and poles. you wanna have some real fun?" Minho offered. At first she thought that it was another attempt to beg for the sex she promised him he would never get. He held up a satchel of Ruby Tears. Interest captured, Azula sauntered over. It has been a while since she'd had a really good fix. "If you add a bit of dandelion powder, the trips are much better." Minho explained. "It smells better too." He added as he dumped a fine dusting of dandelion powder over the Ruby Tears.

With a fresh waft of Dragon's Breath clouding her judgment, Azula she found herself lighting various things on fire at first just to see them explode. She and Minho made a game of it; whoever found the most flammable object won. Whoever didn't, had to kiss Boryuk. A game that had her completely forgetting to hide the color of her flame. Azula scoped the area for something worth lighting. As Minho scoured the trash heap, she shoved her way into the factory. She rummaged through crates both open and sealed, most of them contained broken screws, nails, and bolts. A few had some perfectly intact hammers and wrenches. But they were of no use to her. She could set the mountain of coal on fire, but even at her highest she could still deduce that doing so would draw far too much attention. Coupled with the thought that she would be too drunk to keep a fire of that size in check, she put the idea out of her mind. Perhaps that was the smartest decision she had made all week. At last she came upon what she was looking for. A few sticks of dynamite and a small pile of gun powder. It was only slightly less foolish.

"Found yours Minho?" She asked.

"I find mine 'while ago, pretty lady. Were waiting on you."

"Ell urry ip n lye it ip." Yoona hollered. "Us wan see some sploshions."

"After you." Azula slurred, motioning for Minho to start, after all the best was to be saved for last.

"A'righty then. Time to bring out the classics." Minho stabbed a large stick into the ground, nature's finest firewood. Around it he spread a cluster of leaves. He set it aflame and tossed a lump of coal or two into the mix. She had to admit, his use of the bare minimum created quite a respectable blaze. But it wouldn't come close to the inferno she was about to create.

"Alright, Minho, prepare to meet your doom." She smirked. She put his fire out and set her dynamite and powder in its place. She lit it up and quickly scuttled back. The blast popped and with the assistance of the gunpowder shot quite a distance, right into a sheet of steel where it ricocheted. The burnt of it had died away but the shower of heat that contacted her calf had her nearly on her ass. With a swiftness to match her own, Chan broke her fall.

She counted her blessings that the stick was a dud and that the hit only left a harsh stinging and an angry red mark on her leg.

"I thinks you wons, pretty lady." Minho declared backing away from the fire that still burned where the powder had trailed.

"Whoops." Azula muttered, but at the same time she relished in her victory. It was the first one she's had since the eclipse. "Y-you must feelprettybad rightnow." She laughed, well aware that her slur was growing more apparent. "Because my victory was so explosive, it will be ringing inyourears f-for, for a week."

"That pun will be ringing in my ear for weeks to come." Khoza muttered, obviously not drunk enough for that brand of humor.

Azula laughed harder, it was more like a cackled at that point. Her fire seemed to laugh with her as it crackled. Leaning up against Chan, she fixed her ear on it. Indeed her fire was talking, speaking to her like it was proud of her. "You've finally used me well." It's voice died off with a pop. She crawled closer to the fire as it praised her for her mastery of it. A burst of sparks took to the air and showered down on her in the form of compliments. She came closer still and reached her hand out, only to have Chan yank it back.

"But the fire the fire it wanted me t-to come to it."

"It's a fire, of course it did." Chan smiled, running a hand over her hair. "I would like you to come to me."

Azula peered up at him with innocent eyes, as innocent as her eyes could be anyhow. "Would you?"

"Absolutely." He replied, coaxing her away from the hazard she was making of the fire behind her. He bent down enough to find himself level with her. He brushed her hair out of her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek. Holding her close he mumbled in her ear, "you're still unbelievably hot." His hand slid over her thigh.

She looked at her hands. They were on fire. She was fire. The flames were blue, she was her fire. "I know I am." She replied, effectively ruining the mood. "I am fire." She whispered to herself, truly and completely mesmerized by the flames she thought she had become.

Chan rolled his eyes, but if that made her happy he would go with the moment. "You are fire, huh?" He asked.

"That's right." She smirked, putting a hand on his cheek. Her flame-fingers seemed to lick and dance over his skin. "Do you know what fire likes to do, Chan?"

"What does fire like to do, princess?" He asked stroking her back.

"It likes to consume things." She winked, pushing him to the ground. She needed to take advantage of the moment, it wasn't every day that her entire body became flame, it never happened at all before then. There was so much raw power that came with being fire, she dared anyone to try to wield her. She would let Chan give it a shot.

As a fire would, she leapt upon him.

.oOo.

As the princess became fire, Sokka snuffed out. He couldn't find her, he tried so hard, but he couldn't find her. And if he couldn't find her, that must mean she's dead. No one is gone for a week without a trace or a word and comes back alive, especially not a person hooked on drugs and so full of scars. He killed her in some way, shape, or form. He re-entered the palace all fury with a faint feeling that he should have asked for help.

"Sokka, are you alright?"

"I can't do anything Katara!" He hollered. He didn't mean to yell at her but he needed to scream. He needed to hit something. "You healed her."

"Healed who?"

"Aang was breathing for her."

"Azula? Are you talking about Azula?"

"Zuko kept the guards on task and the guards brought her to the infirmary. You know what I did Katara?" She made off to answer be he was shouting again. "Nothing! I did nothing." He was pacing frantically about the room, he did nothing just like when Zhao killed the moon spirt. Just like when Suki's ship went down.

"Sokka, that's not true." Her arm was on his shoulder.

He came to an abrupt stop, shoulders slumping. "You're right, Katara." The relief in her eyes was short lived. "I did do something. I was the one who put her in that situation. Aren't I just a great help." A coffee table was on the floor before, clattering a few decorative platters along with it. He didn't remember pushing it over, but he was sure that he did. He clasped his hands on his head. It was happening again. And after he swore to himself that he would never lose control again. The fear in Katara's eyes was unmistakable and he couldn't blame her for backing away. As compassionate as she was, she wasn't an idiot. She wasn't reckless like him, she knew when to back away from someone so far out of it that they couldn't come back in on their own.

For the first time he considered that he had never truly healed at all, that he'd been bottling it in the whole time, pretending that everything was okay. It wasn't.

He wasn't.

He kicked the wall once, maybe twice, maybe thrice—he'd lost count after the first.

"Sokka please." Katara called. "You have to calm down."

He didn't mean to but he chucked at that. "Okay, sure thing Katara, let me just flick my rage switch off. He watched her cringe against the wall, just like she did when the first time. He had hit her, not because he was mad at her, but because he was mad and she was there. This time he hit himself, it drove away the urge and was better than hurting her again. He wouldn't be able to take it if he hurt his own sister again, just like he couldn't take it that he had pushed Azula over the edge.

Strangely enough, he found himself hating Suki. For leaving him, for doing this to him.

To his surprise Katara approached him. "No, no you have to go. I'm going to hurt you again."

"You won't." Katara insisted hugging him as close as she could, bringing a halt to his self-beating. "I won't let you."

"I'm sorry Katara." He whispered, his rage subsiding to make room for tears. "I'm so sorry." He wasn't sure if he was apologizing for the present or for the strife he caused her in the past. He needed to get a grip. He needed someone to help him find one. "You're not going to blame her are you, it's not her fault."

"Will it make you feel better if I don't." Katara asked.

Sokka nodded.

"Then I won't. On one condition."

He waited.

"Let me help you. I know you haven't been yourself."

"Then why didn't you say something?" He asked. "You're afraid of me aren't you."

"No, Sokka! You know that's not true. I didn't want to push you."

"Help me help Azula." He quickly added, "you don't even have to talk to her, just give me some support."

Katara sighed. "I'll do what I can."

Sokka tried to smile, he thought that it almost worked. Maybe this time around, he would heal for real. Maybe they both could. If only the princess would come home.

.oOo.

In the week to follow, they had a lot of questions for Azula, having seen her fire for what it really was. She cringed, waiting for the backlash. It came in the form of an unrelenting rain of questions. What was it like to live in the palace? Is it true that you have your own personal guards? Is there a hot spring in palace, I heard there were three. And from Yoona, though jumbled as usual, Azula made out, "can you hook me up with your brother." She came to conclude that Yoona was the most merciless of gang. Khoza was the only one who had no questions to ask. He was content to give commentary, "that explains a lot" among other thing.

Truth be told, Azula had expected repercussion and another beating, but they seemed to treat her no differently. Not better nor worse. They still treated her with all of the roughness of the days prior, they still expected her to accompany them on all of their ventures no matter how much class they lacked.

That week had been the best week of her life. Save for the bottle and the dust, she was free. Truly free.

In that week, she had grown fond of Minho. More so than she'd like to admit. He told her about his family. About his little brother Hi-Yung, who still had the cloth rabbaroo he'd sewn for the kid. Of his mother, crippled by a carriage accident—the one that killed his father. He told her of his dreams and asked her if she could help him. "I know I aren't the brightest 'round. But I have a idea. I has lots a ideas. I want to tell stories. I want folks to read 'em." So she let him tell her stories of the made up sort and of real adventures he'd been on. And he was good at it, several nights in a row he lulled her to sleep with his wild tales. So did something she seldom ever did. She made him a promise. That when she got back to the palace and sorted things out, she would find him again and teach him to read and write. He was a brilliant man, she had come to conclude, a brilliant man who had never gotten a chance. She found out more than she ever wanted to know about him. He was rather comforting and made her feel less alone in her addiction. And when the others were fast asleep, she exchanged a story of her own. And he reminded her that she was strong, useful, worthwhile. He made her feel as though she wasn't alone. He told her that he wanted to stop taking Ruby Tears and that they could do it together.

Perhaps that's why his death hit so hard.


	16. Chapter 16

The rest of the Nyūkirā were asleep when Azula woke. It wasn't quite morning, she could still see faint traces of stars in the sky. She clutched the token in her hand, running her finger over the edges—a physical reminder that she was no longer alone. She sat up and stretched, knowing quite well that no amount of stretching would take the ache of sleeping on the floor away. She crawled over to Chan and gave him a soft shake. She tried calling his name a few times, but the man proved to be a heavy sleeper. The only response she received was a soft snore. She grumbled to herself, wondering why everyone around her seemed to sleep so deeply. Minho usually didn't, she recalled. He usually woke up before her. She furrowed her brows, thinking it odd that he hadn't. "Minho, are you awake?" She inquired. His lack of reply was answer enough. She tried shaking him awake too. Like Chan, he didn't rouse. Azula pouted to herself, being ignored was just one more thing that the princess was unaccustomed to; when she wanted someone to wake up, they woke up. So she offered him a swift punch to the arm. "Minho, wake up." Still he didn't stir, Azula folded her arms over her chest.

She stared at him for a while, hoping that he would sense her glare and ask her to knock it off. The longer she stared the more uncanny his sleeping form seemed. She couldn't seem to place why, not at first. He was still, she realized, very still. Usually he tossed and turned. Azula edged closer once more, it set in that he wasn't moving at all. The steady rise and fall of his chest was missing, Azula jolted at the observation. She assessed that she must be wrong, for once she longed to be wrong. Hesitantly she placed her fingers on the side of his neck beneath his jawline. She moved them several times, finding no pulse. Each time she readjusted the position of her fingers a new sense of dread worked into her belly, creating a lump in her throat. She tried finding it in his wrists, instead she found palms that were too cold to be anything but an ill sign.

For as many battles as she had part-taken, she'd never touched a dead body. She wasn't quite ready to believe it yet and gave his body another shake. "Minho?" This time when he didn't answer she sat limply on her heels with her arms just as slack at her sides and stared.

Just stared.

She shouldn't have. Staring gave her the opportunity to note a faint hint of blue-purple on his skin, the glassy look in his once frantically gold eyes, the light coat of a familiar red powder on his shirt. She could smell Ruby Tears on him from the night before.

It was somewhat difficult to remember, but they had a grand time. Even Yoona joined them, it was her first time experiencing the lift of Dragon's Breath—of course she was wiped. Maybe that was why Minho had taken much more, to show Yoona how it was done. Azula bit the inside of her cheek. Just a few hours ago Minho was more alive than any of them, singing to the beat of traditional Fire Nation ballads but making his own lyrics and trying to get her to sing with him. He stroked her hair and asked her what it was like to have hair made of onyx. High as she was, she still couldn't figure out what that meant, but it sounded nice.

"Eh pretty lady." She remembered him saying as he wrapped his arm around her middle and leaned into her. "Minho ain't never loved no one before?"

She cocked her head and let him talk, she had been too dazed to do much else, it was rather hard to pick his voice out amongst the others.

"Not til' now. I loves you, pretty lady." He didn't have a way with words by any means but it was sweet to hear.

It was the last thing she'd hear from him.

Right after saying it, he fell asleep in her arms.

No, she realized with a swelling sense of horror. He didn't fall asleep he died. He was dying in her arms, she had seen it. And she didn't do anything to help because she was too high to realize there was a problem at all.

She may as well have killed him.

Azula was numb again. Numb and unresponsive when Chan woke up hours later and placed a hand on her shoulder. She remained almost as rigid as Minho until Chan finally asked her if she was alright. Unwilling to cry in front of him she kept her mouth pressed firmly shut and pointed.

"Fuck!" Chan shouted, willing to comprehend it quicker than she did. She terribly missed the days when she could look at agony and death with indifferent. She wished that she hadn't let herself feel, it was better before she did. Maybe if she hadn't given into emotions in the first place she wouldn't have gotten into Ruby Tears, and perhaps then she wouldn't have met Minho at all. She would be home, she would have won the agni kai. But she just had to let herself feel.

"I shouldn't have given him so much. What was I thinking?" Chan muttered to himself, frantically running his hands over his head.

"What's going on?" Bo-Rem asked, eyes still closed.

"Minho is dead." Chan replied. "Minho is dead." He repeated as the weight of it finally set in.

Azula gripped the token tighter, the more jagged of the edges cut into her palms, she didn't notice. She finds another reason to distress. "That's going to be me isn't it?"

"Huh?" Chan peered over at her.

She pointed at Minho again. Only a notch above a whisper, she answered, "I'm going to end up like that."

.oOo.

Sokka stayed in bed for much of the morning, feeling so terribly worn from the night before. The awful reminder that he had slapped Katara—more than once—in a fit of rage so long ago still weight heavily on his mind. No matter how many times she insisted that it was okay, it would never be. She could forgive him, Aang could forgive him, and Hakoda could forgive him. But he couldn't forgive himself, especially since he very nearly did it again. He considered, not for the first time, that Suki sensed an anger beneath the surface and that's why she had started growing distant. She knew it before he did, like always. No matter how many times Zuko told him otherwise he couldn't convince himself to believe his friend.

He peeled himself from his bed and slipped into his day clothes. He was nearly outside when he drew Katara's attentive eye.

"You're leaving?" Katara asked.

"I need something to do." Sokka replied. "I think I'll go crazy if I don't." He had so much raw energy itching to get out and he couldn't come up with a safe way to release it. "So I'm going to look for Azula again."

"I'll come with." Katara offered. "It could help to have an extra pair of eyes."

"No!" He said too abruptly. As long as she was around him she was in danger, and he vocalized his concern.

"I think that you're demonizing yourself, Sokka." Katara countered. "It happened once. Siblings fight and hit each other sometimes."

"Not like that." Sokka replied. "What would you have thought if I started hitting Suki like that?"

"You didn't and you never would."

Once upon a time, he would have agreed, but these days he wasn't so sure. "I don't know what I'll do anymore. I don't feel like me." He admitted.

"Go for a run, just get it all out." Toph suggested. "You can look for princess and unleash your pent up fury." She slammed her hand on the table. "I can come with and help you get fired up!"

Sokka looked around, "I think there's enough fire to go around. And I think that I want to do this alone."

Katara sighed softly, "please come back if you need help."

.oOo.

She needed to go home.

She wasn't doing herself any good.

She told herself that being around the Nyūkirā was healthy for her; maybe it was in the sense that she felt cared for again, even if it was only the rough and rugged sort that could do so. But their influence was so poor, a quick glance down at the angry burn mark on her leg proved as much.

"What are we going to do with him?" Azula asked.

Chan shrugged. "People die here very often, it's not news."

"Now can you actually answer my question."

"We don't have funerals here because it's so common for a person to just die. You see lots of kids go, killed by drugs or gang fights. Minho's just one more."

"It doesn't bother you?" Azula asked.

"It does bother you?" Chan returned. "You were a war child…"

"This is different." Azula replied. "You still haven't told me what we're going to do with him."

"Usually we just burn the bodies. No funeral, maybe a couple of words but no one really knows how to conduct a formal event, and no one can afford to hire someone else to do it. So say you goodbyes and we'll get on with it."

Azula entered the event with a mentality she hadn't taken on in a long time. The mentality of a solider. Maybe if she pretended that he was a comrade fallen in battle, she could shoulder it better. Such was much better than seeing him die as nothing more than street trash. Save for their first encounter, Minho had treated her with a kindness she hadn't seen in so long. "You should do it, Azula." Chan offered. The firebender eyed Minho, despairingly. Seeing her lack of response, Chan came forward only for her to extend her arm. There came two bursts—an eruption of blue flames and a sudden wail. Azula supposed that if anyone were to cry, it was only fitting that it would be Yoona.

Azula left some time later, without a word or a wave. The rest of the Nyūkirā huddled around Yoona, making sure she was alright. The princess decided that this would be a good time to sneak off. She left her things behind, all except the token they'd given her. She slipped it into her pocket and slipped away. Chan would spend her money well and they could fight over her sleeping bag and pillow. She hoped that they wouldn't resent her for leaving—more than that she hoped that the wouldn't view it as an act of cowardice, leaving when things got rough.

Really, she wouldn't have gone if she didn't think that staying would be the death of her. She would have sunk lower, lower than even before. And from there she would drag everyone else down with her. No, she had to go, if it meant that they'd resent her she supposed she would let them. Everyone else did, at least this time her intentions were noble. The afternoon was quiet, the streets surprisingly empty as Azula crossed them. She noticed much less than usual it might have been because she had grown used to the sights the Ash Pit offered, then it might have been because her mind was elsewhere. She wanted it to be anywhere but in the Ash Pit so she fixed her golden eyes on the palace. When they weren't on the palace, they were fixed on the ground. Feeling dizzy and nauseous she began taking risky shortcuts through alleys and through the lawns of strangers. She just wanted to be home, to lay in her bed, to have a true meal in her belly, and—if all went well—to have a hot bath. She just wanted to feel like herself again. But the spinning feeling in her head was climbing rapidly and she wondered if she would even make it across the border.

A hulking figure lumbered over. "Why's it so hard for you ta stay off Mama Mozi grass? Mama Mozi grass don't like you very much, it still remember you."

Azula groaned to herself. She should have been paying attention. On a day like that one it only seemed right that she would find herself back at square one. It both frustrated and fascinated her to know that she had come across the one character in the world who had a curious fixation for sod. She was in no mood nor condition for it.

"You gunna set Mama Mozi grass on fire again?"

"I'm going home." Azula answered. "Your lawn just so happens to be in my path again."

Mama Mozi's face softened. "You was supposed to go home 'while ago. You probably gots some people looking for you."

"No one is looking for me."

"You father?"

"In prison." She shrugged.

"You mother?"

"Doesn't care what happens to me as long as she has my brother." Azula stated firmly.

"If you was my baby Ida look fer you."

"But I'm not, so instead you'll settle for landing me on the floor." The resentment is heavy in her voice but Mozi seems to take no note of it. Save for her initial remark, the woman is free of grudges.

Mama Mozi returned with, "if I ain't done it you wouldda get yourself in more trouble with folk who less kind." Azula considers that the woman may just have a wisdom of her own masked beneath a painful lack of grammatical skills. She supposed that the woman was right, that she had treaded with more care after that, not that she would admit it. Mama Mozi didn't need an admission. "I were easy on my son 'n my son went 'n join the Rōka. He weren't a bad boy, really he weren't. He just needed a good woopin'."

Azula let the woman ramble.

"But I ain't give him no woopin' so he went 'n got himself in trouble. One day he didn't come home to Mama Mozi. Just didn't come home." For a second she thought that Mozi might weep. She did not instead she clasped Azula's wrist, nearly causing the princess to flinch. "You need to go home before something happen to you."

"That was the plan."

"Let Mama Mozi take you home." She offered a grubby hand that Azula was more than reluctant to take. The very same hand had slugged her in the face multiple times. "Nobody let Mama Mozi protect them 'n Mama Mozi see so many kids die."

"I'm not a child." Azula frowned.

"When you Mama Mozi age, everyone younga is a chil'."

Azula sighed, "fine but when we get to the upper ring…"

"Mama Mozi go back home."

They had a deal.

For all the sneers offered in Azula's direction as she passed, none of them seemed to want to chance a squabble with Mozi who weaved in and out of alleys without a care. Their dwellers seemed to part for her and for the first time, the princess wondered if the woman had held back on her during their fight. Azula's body yearned for a break, she was feeling hot and achy, her stomach wouldn't stop reeling. Twice Mama Mozi took to a shadowy area and urged the princess to give herself a break. Azula wished she had some water to assuage her dry throat. "We almost there." Mozi smiled. Azula only offered a slight nod. "You doesn't talk much?"

"I don't have anything much to say right now." Forgetting that she had cut them off, Azula motioned to give her bangs a flick.

They came to stand in the shadow of a craggy natural wall, the earthy crust that divided the pit and the upper ring. Mama Mozi let go of her hand, leaving Azula surprised that she had let the woman have it for such a lengthy period. "Can you make Mama Mozi a promise?"

"I'm not good at keeping those." Azula said honestly. She never had a desire to improve that skill either.

Mama Mozi requested anyways. "When you gets home, you don't take the tears no more."

"I'm not—"

Mama Mozi's face darkened. "Mama Mozi, know the look a someone on tears. Mama Mozi know it well." Much to her annoyance, Mozi pats Azula oddly affectionately on the head. "You still a pretty girl, don't let the tears takes that."

Azula swallowed, pretty girl…pretty lady… She drew in a sharp breath.

Mama Mozi smiled a rotting smile, her tooth shuddering as insecurely as the first time.

For as silent as she remained, Azula was somber in wake of the woman's departure.

She emerged from the Ash Pit feeling like she shouldn't have been allowed to. Like she no longer belonged to the higher ring. The people she once walked among regularly didn't make her feel any more welcomed. People glared at her like she was out of place. "Get back to the slums." Snarled one, pinching his nose. Feeling entirely and uncharacteristically self-conscious, Azula took to the lesser used back roads.

.oOo.

He almost didn't recognize her, with her face sporting various cuts, scrapes, and welts. With her hair wild and matted. Her skin so caked with grime. Beneath the layer of mud her flesh didn't like quite so pale, instead it seemed as though she had received way too much sunlight. She seemed thinner still, as if she hadn't a proper meal in days. Her posture was loose and slumped, her clothing torn and straggly. He couldn't see her expression.

But it was her, it was Azula.

Relief surged through him. She was okay, she was alive.

He ran up to her. "I found you." He didn't realize he was hugging her until she told him to let go. He couldn't tell if she was angry or not. So he unhanded her coming back with a layer of dirt of his own, but he didn't care. He could take her back to the palace, and make sure she couldn't cause herself anymore strife. His anger abated at last giving way to joy. "I found you."

.oOo.

His tears fell on her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her again. The feeling of being held was at last becoming less foreign and she didn't quite know what to make of that. All over again, she felt ashamed. She was absolutely filthy; the plan was for her to get home and let no one see her in such a haggard state. Yet he did, and he was still holding her like he had just recovered something he cherished.

"Don't worry, I'm going to take you home."

She didn't have the heart to tell him she was already on her way. For the moment, anyhow, she would let him believe that he had done all of the work.

He brushed over her arm as if he didn't believe she was there. "I really found you."


	17. Chapter 17

After a bath and a bought of healing with Katara, the princess was looking more like herself. He was happy to see her wearing a simple tunic of red silk with a golden dragon embroidered in the middle. It was clean and elegant and it suited her very well. He watched her run her fingers through her hair, it still lacks the gloss and volume that it once had, but even from afar Sokka could tell that it smelled nice again. He couldn't place what kind of scent it was, but he liked it. Much of her skin had been wrapped in bandages after a very deep cleansing. One gash in particular, on her heel required special attention, being as it was in an early stage of infection. It was a wonder she wasn't limping, but then she wasn't one to display signs of pain. She waited not quite patiently for a steaming bowl of soup. She was rather antsy and it bothered Sokka that she was letting it show so plainly. When her food finally arrived, she accepted it eagerly. He wanted to ask her where she had been and what she had been up to, but he didn't have it in him to interrupt her meal.

After she finished, he accompanied her to her room. The palace was abuzz with rumors of her whereabouts and they discussed it quite openly as she passed. Most people were under the impression that her insanity got the best of her and had her wandering the streets until she had the sense to come back; more than half of that crowd spoke surprisingly sympathetically of it the rest scowled in disgust, claiming that she was giving their nation a bad look. Others speculated that she had gone off on some mission that had failed terrifically. Some even thought up more sinister scenarios—that she hadn't left on her own accord and was taken by a team of assassins who wished to see her as far from the throne as possible. But Azula seemed to make no note of any of it, confirming or denying nothing to those who had worked up the courage to directly ask. Though her face betrayed nothing, he could imagine that the firebender just wanted to lock herself back in her room away from the speculating crowd.

He had a question of his own and could wait no longer to ask, "you're angry with me, aren't you?"

She looked up for a moment, peering at his face. After taking time to considered she shrugged and replied, "not particularly."

"But I abandoned you." He replied.

Her shoulders seemed to shudder, he thought she may have been crying. It took him a moment to realize that she was laughing at him. "You all are so dramatic."

"I—"

"I told you to leave and you left." She shrugged. "It's that simple. When I ask someone to do something, it gets done."

"But you didn't actually want me to leave?" He asked.

She pondered it again, "I didn't."

"I left you anyways." He replied.

"A wise decision." She offered him no room to protest it before adding, "I was making things difficult for you, yes?" It was the first time he'd heard her admit something like that out loud. The first time he'd heard her vocalize something that seemed close to guilt. She took his silence as confirmation. "It's alright, I know that I'm not good company to keep."

He felt a pang in his chest. "It didn't do me any good. That you left, I mean." He contemplated telling her exactly how horribly her sudden departure affected him.

"It did me well."

He decided then, that he wouldn't. "It did?" He asked as they approached her room. He was about to remind her of how miserably she looked only hours ago and of her infected foot, but he bit his tongue and waited for her to explain.

"I'm tired, Sokka." Azula replied instead. "Stay with me?"

As far as he was concerned, it wasn't even a question. He was glad she was back and he wanted to make sure that she wouldn't be planning another escape any time soon. Though talking to her was lightening a lot of his concern. Despite her formerly haphazard appearance she was talking with all of the slick ease he was used to with her. Maybe, it had done her well to flee to wherever she had fled. He would take special care to not let her know that, especially since he needed someone who could understand him. Understand his darker self, perhaps even better than he, himself.

Late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains. Sokka sat in the corner of the room watching Azula doze soundly. She curled herself up under the covers and was asleep within minutes. Apparently, she was as spent as she indicated. She looked more serene than he had seen her in perhaps months. Her breathing is soft and reassuringly unlabored.

What happened to you? He muses to himself as he evaluates her sleeping form.

.oOo.

When Azula wakes, Sokka is still there. She guessed that he had snuck out at some point for he is reading a book that wasn't in the room before she went to sleep. Judging by the way he gnawed on a stick of mutton, he hadn't noticed she was awake yet. She pushed herself up, a flash of dizziness—which she was becoming so accustom to—sent her back down with a small gasp. Absently she reached into her pocket and felt for her pouch of Ruby Tears, only to find them gone.

"You're awake!" Sokka replied enthusiastically and then a second time in a rather mortified tone as he quickly wiped his face and pretended like he wasn't chomping on it like an animal.

"Well I suppose that wasn't the most barbaric thing I've seen." She muttered, reflecting unfondly upon The Rumble.

"How did you sleep?" He asked.

"Very well." She replied, nuzzling her face against her pillow, intent on savoring the luxurious feeling of a plush mattress under her back. She cocooned herself deeper into her blankets, drinking in the cozy feeling. She runs her fingers over the silk sheet beneath her.

She fears that, despite the comforts, she will not be able to get back to sleep. She is feeling dreadful and terribly weak. More so than she has in a while with her head pounding profusely and her mouth dry again. She bunches up and clutches her stomach when the nausea hits her again. "I need a drink, Sokka."

He nodded and retrieved her a glass of water.

"Not that kind." She knows he won't get it for but she felt like it couldn't have hurt to ask. But Agni she needed it, her body craved it and it was letting her know. Two days away from the tears and the bottle was all too much.

To her surprise he handed her a glass. She squinted at him, "you're supposed to tell me no."

"Do you want me to?" He asked.

"No." She replied taking the cactus juice in her trembling hand.

Maybe his voice hadn't told her no. Maybe his actions didn't either. But the way he eyed her as she brought the glass to her lips was scolding her every step of the way. But as the drink warmed her throat, she couldn't bring herself to care too much. With that glass empty she held it out for a refill. This time he wouldn't cave.

She rummaged around her pockets for the pouch again, realizing with horror and pride that she had left it in the Ash Pit. It had been an impulse decision made out of fear, but she knows that she will eventually crack and go to retrieve it sooner rather than later. She looked at her palms, perhaps she can send a messenger hawk to Chan and have him deliver it.

"You okay?" Sokka asks, noting her grim expression.

"Yes, fine." She replied. But she felt anything but. Her head hurt, her body ached and trembled, and she had left herself with no way to alleviate it. She rubbed at her temples trying to fight away the involuntary tears that prickled behind her eyes. She forced herself up and poured herself another glass, with any luck it would take the brunt of the nauseous feeling away.

That time Sokka didn't mask his frown, she was disappointing him to some extent or another. As she brought that glass to her lips she considered that she was a lost cause. A feeling that amplified when she recalled that she hadn't brought all of her Ruby Tears with her to the Ash Pit. No, she still had a little portion of it left, concealed safely away in case her pouch were to get stolen. Sokka smiled when she put the glass down, still unaware that she would only exchange it for something worse. She would only take a little, just enough to dull the aches.

Sokka's face darkened as soon as she drew the powder from its hiding place, yet he still refused to speak up. She spread the Ruby Tears across her dresser and threw a look over her shoulder. His stare hadn't wavered and his arms were folded over his chest, but his lips were still completely locked. She stared at the Dragon's Breath for a moment more.

Just enough time for a vivid image of Minho's face to work passed her filter. Cold, blue, and a little puffy, a thin dusting of Ruby Tears decorating his nose, lips, and shirt in the most unflattering way. It had killed him. She dwells on the sensations assaulting her currently. It is killing her.

She drew back.

For a moment she looks at Sokka again. He must have seen the fear in her eyes, the conflict, because that time he did speak. "Well, don't let me stop you."

She knows very well what he's doing, she's done it a great many times to her own victims, but she lets him continue.

His look seemed to judge her heavily as she hunched over the Ruby Tears. With real tears slipping from her own eyes, landing upon the back of her hands, Azula blew the dust off of her dresser.

She sank down to her knees, everything was hurting so intensely.

And she had no way to get it to stop.

She stole a peek up at Sokka again. That time his expression was free of scrutiny. Azula licked her dry, cracked lips. The cry for help was back on the tip of her tongue. "I don't want to die, Sokka." She mumbled miserably.

"You're not going to die." He replied, coming closer.

"Yes, I am." She replied, dropping herself to the floor and curling up as she had on the bed. "If I'm not dying then why does everything hurt?"

"Because living hurts sometimes." Sokka replied. She could sense something in those words, some dual meaning that lies just out of her reach.

"I need to stop." She motioned to the partially full satchel on her dresser. "Make me stop. Yell at me to stop, slap me around until I stop. I don't care just get me to stop." It was as close to asking for help as she could get.

"I'm not going to hurt you." His tone was carefully level as he took her clammy hand. "I won't yell at you either. But I'll help you stop." He gathered her into his arms and let her bawl like a child. She didn't want to cry but she was afraid, so afraid. If he thought her pathetic, he didn't say so. She didn't mean to grip his shirt so tightly, nor lean deeper into her hold, but she did. This crying wasn't helping her pounding head any.

Azula gave a sharp and shuddering sigh. Just when she thought she had her control and independence. "You think I'm weak don't you?"

"I didn't tell you to get rid of those drugs just now. You did that on your own."

"So?" She asked.

"Don't you think that that's strength?" He retuned the question.

Truth be told she hadn't considered so. But it made her feel better to think so. It took some of the bit off of the embarrassment of requesting help. "What if I can't do it again?" She asked.

He did exactly what she dreaded and hoped for. He put the satchel in her palm and told her to burn it. She closed her hand around the pouch, knowing that if she burned it then, she wouldn't have anything to go back to if the need arose. It was one thing to blow away a portion of her stash and another to get rid of it entirely. Turning it over in her hand she replied, "I can't."


	18. Chapter 18

He didn't press the issue any, but Azula was left with a potent sting of disappointment in herself as she returned the Ruby Tears to their hiding place. Still she hesitated, willing herself to burn it in her palm. But she couldn't bring herself to light the flame. Where was her poor impulse control when she needed it? Apparently, it only arose when a beating was on the other end of it.

For the longest time Azula was quiet, content to just have a body next to hers. A clean shaven, toned, nice smelling body. It was even nicer to have distance, someone who didn't have to go skin to skin with her to be a comfort. No, Sokka lie at least a pillow length away.

For the time being that felt nice. Like he wasn't expecting anything from her in exchange for his company.

A friend. She just wanted a friend.

Such was how two days went by. He would stay with and not say anything, waiting for her to speak. But she didn't, Azula found that she hadn't much to say. Mostly, he would listen to her whimper softly to herself as the various aches reached their peaks and fell away only to come back the next day. She could see it in his eyes that he didn't know what to do about it. Her body wracked with tremors and she couldn't seem to focus on any one thing for more than five minutes or so, if even.

The nights were worse, the corners were filled with dark things, looming presences that faded out of view when she tried to assess them. They left her with a sense of foreboding. They wanted her dead and if she fell asleep they might just take her. So she stayed awake, waiting.

Suffering.

The desire to pull the covers over her head for a false protection was growing stronger but she was hot. Too hot, even for her. She could see it clearer now, a bulky mass of darkness that swelled in the very corner of her room. Sokka slept on the floor, blissfully unaware of the hulking figure that was waiting to claim her. It stalked closer, each footfall bringing a horrific pounding behind her eyes. She knew that this thing was the source of her suffering.

She was going to kill it…

She was going to…

The third morning hit her hard. She didn't even make it across the room before she doubled over and threw up what little she had eaten. Her sides pulsed and her lungs burned, still her stomach emptied itself more. She had to put an end to it, she was glad she kept the Ruby Tears. All she had to do was go retrieve them.

"Good morning, Azula." Sokka greeted so cheerfully that she may have thrown up again.

"Is it?" She snapped. "Is it really?"

Sokka has become pretty good at ignoring her outbursts. Instead of taking the bait he fetched her a towel and helped her clean herself. At that, her temper cooled again. She rubbed her puffy eyes, they have become swollen and red and she doesn't know if it's another symptom of withdrawal or if its for lack of sleep, but she hates it as much as all of her other ails. She pulled herself to her feet despite the vertigo threatening to pull her back down again and moved to her vanity set. She still didn't like looking in the mirror but she picked up her comb and began brushing. Her hair had gotten longer since she'd fled the palace, reaching her shoulders. She thought that it should have been a little longer than that by now, she supposed she shouldn't complain, at least it was growing. She thought of applying some lipstick but didn't seek to agitate her chapped lips any further. Setting her comb down, she retreated to an armchair in the corner of her room. "Sit." She pointed to the spot next to her. The chair had always been much too big for her, it practically required a second person—or even a third—to fill it. Sokka would do just well. She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. It was useless to try to get comfortable but she put some effort into it anyhow. She opened one eye, "did you hear me?" She paused. "I said get over here."

"I heard you." He replied.

"Then why are you still over there?" She asked, tapping chipped, yellowing fingernails on the arm rest. One of these days, when she found the energy, she would have to drop by the palace spa. A manicure was long overdue and a facial even more so. Her brief glimpse in the mirror revealed dry skin, lacking in its usual elasticity. She ran her fingers through her hair at the unwelcomed reminder of her decay. "On your way can you bring me my kiseru?" A little smoke couldn't hurt, in fact she was will to say it would ease the pain as it usually did.

"If you want to cave in, I'm not going to help you." The Water Tribesman had an annoying way of holding his ground.

Azula pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well if you won't do that," she hissed, "then maybe you could hurry up, I didn't realize waterbenders were so slow." She impatiently patted the spot next to her again. "Really, when I invited you to stay with me I thought that you would be helpful." She realized that she was working herself into a rage and one that was wholly unnecessary. She caught the flicker of annoyance in his eyes and flinched inwardly, she was going to push him out again. She ought to at least add a 'please' to her demand, but she still felt herself above such.

.oOo.

She is far more demanding than Yue and even Suki and in some sense, very high maintenance. But in other ways he knew he wouldn't have to worry about her in the same way he had to worry about Suki and Yue.

He sat down next to her. The chair offered only a little space between them, every time she shifted, her shoulder would brush his. The close proximity offered him a whiff of pine and a touch of cinnamon, a much better combination than the overpowering odor of tobacco and cactus juice. He'd never known a firebender to use pine fragrances, but it was a potent scent, probably one she was using to mask less pleasing ones. The cinnamon lingered from her bath the other day.

He was happy for it though, it was much more pleasant. He thought of vocalizing his opinion but, kind or not, he couldn't gauge how kindly she'd take to an unsolicited opinion. Instead he asked, "should I call for breakfast."

"I'm not hungry." She replied.

"You're never hungry." He grumbled. Just like he'd never known a firebender to use earthy scents, he'd never known a person to deny perfectly good food.

"You can get something for yourself though." She muttered, reminding him that he didn't actually need her permission to do so. He'd order for two under the guise that he'd be eating it himself, with any luck he'd convince her to finish what he didn't. Truth be told he was growing concerned at how small she was getting. Maybe he shouldn't have but he added, "Ruby Tears aren't food."

He earned himself a rough shove off of the armchair. She might have called him an asshole, but he couldn't hear it over the sound of his rear thumping on the floor.

She ignored him for sometime afterward, leaving him to brood over it. He wished that she would stop being so difficult, all the same he knew that she wouldn't be Azula if she wasn't. Even so he can't help but wonder if he would be getting anything out of a relationship, of any kind, with her. "Come on Azula, I was joking." He cringed at his own words, again a joke was getting him in trouble. It wasn't quite a joke though, the delivery yes. The meaning, no. She pretended to inspect her nails and, if he could guess, pretended to like what she saw. He sighed and twiddled his thumbs, wishing that he'd brought his paint set with him, he could have painted something silly. Instead he was forced to endure an oppressive silence until the food arrived.

Apparently, the princess was just as discontent with the quiet, but she wouldn't be the one to break it. Her apology came in the form of accepting the reminisce of his food when he offered it to her. He didn't know why, but he thanked her for doing so. She shrugged, he could sense that there was something on her mind. "What's bothering you?" Whatever it was, she has been thinking about it for a while.

"Aside from…" she gestured to her entire body. She didn't indicate whether she was referring to her physical appearance, the various aches, or both and she left him to space to ask. "You didn't tell them did you?" She questioned. "About this," she motioned to what remained of the empty bottles.

"You asked me not to." He replied.

"And did you listen?"

"I shouldn't have." Sokka dared. "I think that they should…"

She waved the rest of his response off. "They don't need to." She put her plate aside and buried her head in her hands as if that could stop the pulsing.

"Maybe Katara can help you with the headaches." He suggested.

"And what reason do you think I should give her to be having them so often?" She asked, everything in her tone suggested she believed there were no good excuses. He was certain that if she wanted to she could come up with one, even if it were a poor one she'd be able to make it sound quality. But she had no desire to do so. "I don't need anyone else's help anyways."

She wouldn't back down on this one. It would be nice though, to have someone else who knew. Sokka wondered if he should tell Aang regardless of her request. But he had her trust—or something close to it—he couldn't imagine how hard it would be to get it back if he lost it. He was on his own to some degree. After all of this time he still didn't know how to help her, he didn't know what he would do if simply being there stopped cutting it.

"Tell me why you aren't happy." Azula requested, apparently done discussing herself. He should have known she'd try to switch the subject sooner or later. "Am I that awful to be around?" And sarcastically she added, "I'm hurt Sokka."

"What would make you say I'm not happy?"

"Your personality." Azula shrugged. She pulled herself up and snatched his boomerang, "living hurts sometimes." She gave an exaggerated imitation of how he normally waved his boomerang when he spoke. "Weren't you the group clown?"

"That was a long time ago." Sokka trailed off.

Azula scoffed. "You sound like Zu-Zu. Stop it."

"Sorry," Sokka apologized. "I've just had a lot on my mind lately. I was worried about you, you know." His attempt to swing the focus away from him again was a success.

She furrowed her brows, "why?" She shifted in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. "I can take care of myself."

"So can Katara. So can Toph. I still worry about them, because I care about them and I don't want to lose them."

"You..." she started, "care about me?"

He nodded, hoping that she wouldn't ask any further. He knew he didn't have all of the answers she'd be seeking. But it was only natural that she would continue her interrogation. If it wasn't trying to roast someone to a charred husk she was burning someone with harsh words. In some sense or another, she was relentless; this time it was in the form of endless inquires.

"Why?" Her voice was as apathetic as it was two questions ago. "What have I done to earn that?"

This was the question he had no answer for, aside from, 'I just do.' He wracked his brain, "I think that you haven't had enough care."

"You've said that before. Who cares?"

"I do!" He threw his hands up.

"Now we're just going in circles. Why? Why do you care? Why do you want to care?"

He was nearly frustrated enough to bring up what painting her has done for him. But he still wasn't ready for her to know about that, he wasn't sure if he'd ever be. Carefully he said, "you gave me something to do, you helped me take my mind off of things so I decided that I owed you the same."

Always one to make things difficult she argued again, "I would have been none the wiser." This woman, he realized wanted to get to the core of his feelings. He wished her luck, because he hasn't even gotten there. "Why did you feel obliged to fulfill a debt I didn't know of." He considered for the first time that this endless stream of questions might be distracting her from her torment.

"I just…I don't know Azula. I have honor or compassion?" He scratched his head, growing nervous under her gaze. "Maybe. Maybe I see something in you that others don't."

"You aren't very specific, are you?"

"I don't think that you're a bad person." He elaborated. "I think that you can help us do amazing things. You kind of remind me of Suki, but with more fire."

"In other words, you don't care about me. You care about what you think I could be."

"I care about both." Sokka grumbled. "Why are you making it so hard to say nice things about you?"

.oOo.

Azula knew she was pushing it. He was growing increasingly agitated but she had to make sure. She had to know that he wasn't just another Mai. She ignored his question and posed another of her own, "what do you like about me now then? What's worth caring about?"

Sokka groaned. "I don't know…just you in general I guess. I've never met someone like you before."

"You are lucky." She quirked a brow.

He chuckled. "Maybe." He paused, considering his next words. "Or maybe not. I like your wit and your dark humor is fun in moderation." He faltered again, this time deciding if he wanted to add something else, he was doing that too much. She didn't like these secrets. "You're nice when you want to be." She wished he would have kept that one to himself.

"If you say so."

"I think that you care about me." He added.

"I didn't ask."

"If you didn't, you wouldn't have asked why I wasn't happy."

"I might have just been curious…"

"I think that you want to help me out too."

"Only because helping you will benefit me." She tried.

"Because you're actually really a sweet person." He countered

"Okay, you can stop now, Sokka."

He broke out laughing, regardless there was truth in his words—he didn't see her like everyone else did. He'd seen her cry…multiple times. He'd seen her dirty and battered. He'd seen her stumbling without a hint of grace nor power. He'd seen her at her rawest, at her most exposed. For better or for worse he didn't think that she was a monster. He didn't think that she was helplessly insane nor broken.

"You make for great conversation." He added.

It was the last truly coherent discussion he'd have with her.


	19. Chapter 19

Day four came with another wave of quiet, this time she insisted that it wasn't anything he did. She was in pain, a hefty amount of it he could see it on her face and in the way her body went tense. More than once she would clutch her chest. Any time he asked her if she wanted to see a healer she would roll to the side. It would seem that she was determined to ride this out on her own. Mostly, the princess was asleep, a stark and odd turn from her usual insomnia. Even in her sleep she seemed to struggle; her head still burned, her hand clutched at the sheets until the whites of her knuckles showed, and she squeezed her eyes so tightly he feared that she was hurting herself more. But he couldn't seem to wake her, so instead he settled on rubbing her bicep and back until at least a teeny bit of tension released.

It was bringing him a new sensation of helplessness. When she disappeared, he had the power to change it, to find her. She had the power to come home. This. This was out of his control, out of her control. Just the way it was with Suki. Looking down at the princess he wondered if she was going to make it. He has never seen her in such a state, the last time he saw someone like this was when he'd stumbled upon a plague town on its last legs. This isn't the plague, he reminded himself. He took Azula's hand, wondering if she could even feel it.

When she did wake up it was with a horrible cry.

One that he feared would send Zuko bolting into the room.

Her fingers clawed at her chest with such force, he feared that she'd hurt herself more. "Can I get Katara now?" He tried.

Azula heaved herself up and pushed out breathy, "No. No healers."

.oOo.

Her chest ached as though someone were trying to yank her heart from it. It was terribly unfair, this was what she was trying to avoid when taking herself off of the tears. So why? Why was the world throwing it back in her face? She was beginning to wonder what the point was. If she was going to go through the same pains and face the same kind of death she may as well do it and get a good trip out of it. Her chest constricted again and she wondered if she should take him up on letting Katara see her. But then she would have to explain her lacerations. She eyed the slashes across her belly and ribcage and the bruises and gashes on her arms. She wondered if pinning it on those would be an ample excuse. They would have to be, she was beginning to fear for herself. Her chest tightened again. "Fine." She wheezed, "Get your sister." And in a stern hiss added, "but don't you dare tell her anything, leave the excuses to me." She punctuated this with a sharp glare.

"I won't tell her, I'll just say that…"

"You'll say that I would like to have my infection tended to." Azula replied, "The bandage needs changing anyways."

She shouldn't have sent him off, the desire to go to the drawer was enticing. He would never know, all she had to do was hustle over there and she could end her misery at least for a brief time. The burning sensation in her chest kept her inactive.

As much as she loathed to admit it, Katara's healing eased the pain. It would seem that death wasn't snatching at her this time, of course the mock sensation of it was no more pleasurable. Katara moved the water across her chest with more care than she expected the waterbender to give. Azula closed her eyes and let Katara swap her bandages, only to open them again at a harsh sting. "Sorry." The waterbender mutter. Something told Azula that she wasn't, she was taking some degree of pleasure in causing her mild discomfort. Rather what would have been mild, her body was embarrassingly weak, even small pokes and jabs felt like jarring slices and stabs. Azula crinkled her nose but gave no other indication of her distress as Katara finished cleansing the wound on her foot. "She should be fine now, Sokka."

If only she knew.

.oOo.

Azula's nights were growing worse. For as much as she slept during the day, she was kept up at night. Sokka knew because she had woken him. And none of what she seemed to fear made any sense at all. She talked of people—old war enemies—long dead, insisting that they were coming for her. She rose from her bed to pace around, muttering something he couldn't understand before asking him what she was doing and when she had woken.

This continued for an hour or two before she passed out again.

Though she was slumbering again, Sokka couldn't. He wondered how much longer she would be acting like that. He didn't know how much more he could stand to watch. If he were being completely honest with himself, she was disturbing him deeply. He considered that this was how others saw him when he was in a mood.

He eyed the princess wearily, hoping that she wouldn't wake up again. There was something infinitely more horrifying about watching her hallucinate at night, it brought him a vague sense that something might truly be there—she so intensely believed it herself she was beginning to convince him. He had a feeling he wouldn't have to worry about round two that night, she seemed to be out cold.

The morning after was worse still. Though not as fear striking, Azula seemed to have retreat further into the delusions. She retained no sense of time a day and an hour were one in the same and she was firmly latched onto the idea that it has been weeks since she'd been off of the tears and cactus juice.

Sokka typically tried to avoid getting physical with her, but her erratic pacing was driving him insane. Without thinking about what he was doing, nor how she might react, he took her by the shoulders. "You need to sit down and rest."

"Don't tell me what to do." She shoved his hands away. She was shaking so badly, he ought to push it more.

"Azula." He frowned.

Sokka felt the gust of heat before the fire actually came to her palm. He made a reflexive grab for her wrist. His shirt singed some and the princess snarled at him. He took her other hand. "Let go." She growled offering him a decent kick in the shin. He gripped tighter, if she was going to take him down she'd be coming with him.

"You're going to hurt both of us." He winced, asking himself how she could still possibly have so much fight in her. She was screaming at him, a long list of insults that ranged from vaguely to wickedly offensive. She was becoming a handful and he himself was growing tired. Apparently, she was too, her hold was loosening. It took him a moment to realize her attention had simply shifted to one of the people he could not see. He needed a break from it. From her. "I need a bath." He panted. She looked at him quizzically, as if she hadn't just tried to char him to a crisp. "I'll be back."

"You can't leave." She sputtered.

"I'll be back after my bath." He held his ground. "I think you can handle things for a few minutes."

"If you leave, whose going to help me pick up the flowers?" She asked.

"What are you talking about?" He knit his brows.

"The flowers." She pointed to a tangle of jewelry that she had knocked over the night before.

He tried to go along with it. "I can do that after my bath."

"I'll come with." She decided.

Sokka rubbed his hand over his face. "Go lay down and I'll be here when you wake up." He took his chances and put an arm around her, leading her to her bed.

"No, no. I can't go there, it's going to swallow me." She went rigid, throwing all of her weight into keeping him from moving her any further. She eyed the red silk that spilled onto the floor like a tongue licking the ground. "Do you know how long it took me to get out last time?"

"You were tired, Azula, you didn't want to get up." He pointed out.

She tugged her way out of his grasp and rummaged through her closet. After finding something she liked—a red bathrobe embroidered with golden koi fish and a pair of baggy light pink pants that didn't match in any way at all—she made her way through the door. It would seem that he would be bathing with her after all.

He was surprised to find that she could still navigate her house with ease. She still muttered to him about how her flowers weren't going to sparkle when they got back and that it was going to be all his fault. Every word she uttered made less sense than the next, it was like she was still on the tears.

She commented when they reached the palace hot springs, "I don't like caves."

"It's not a cave." He replied stripping off his clothes. One way or another he would take this bath. He relaxed into the water and let out a sigh. It was a little hotter than he preferred but he could already feel some tension slipping away. To his surprise, Azula lingered on the outside of the water, looking thoroughly confused. "What?"

"When did we get here?"

"A few minutes ago." Sokka replied.

"I've never been to the Water Tribe before. I thought it would be colder."

"We're not in the Water Tribe." Sokka replied as he fetched himself a bar of soap. Still Azula lingered away from the water. "Are you coming in?"

She stared at the churning water for a few moments, trying to decide if she wanted to. Reluctantly she slipped out of her tunic and into the bubbling spring. "There's no bottom Sokka." The look of panic in her eyes had him at her side in seconds.

"Yes there is, you can touch it. You're touching it now."

"It's not real, I'm going to fall through." She muttered to herself. "It's too deep. It's…" she trailed off into a string of incoherence. She took another step. "I can't find the bottom."

Pushing aside the awkward air of intimacy he took Azula around the middle, holding her steady. "It's alright, I found it so you don't have to."

She nodded.

"Here." He handed her the soap.

"I like pearls." She murmured, there was a sense of longing as she looked upon the bar in her hand. He could see it in her eyes that she was sinking further into delirium. He pondered upon whether or not it was worth it to get his bath. At least with 'the pearl' in her hand her distress seemed to be melting away. Slowly he drew away from her and let her rub the soap over her body. He quickly shampooed his hair and offered the vile of it to her. She pushed it away, continuing to scrub herself with the soap.

"I think you're clean, Azula." He forced a laugh.

"I like my pearl." She whispered affectionally as she continued to rub up and down her arm.

Sokka cupped his hand over hers. "If you keep doing that, it's going to disappear."

She stopped for a moment and inspected the bar, assessing that she had already scrubbed it a size or two smaller she dropped it with instructions to return to the ocean. He tried handing her the shampoo again. "Keep your tree sap, you barbarian."

Sokka grumbled to himself. He poured a generous amount of shampoo into his palm massaged it into her hair. "It's pearl juice." He lied after she finally realized what he was doing. She seemed to be calming as he ran his fingers though her hair, a smile crossed her lips. It was one thing to see her short hair but to be sifting his fingers though it somehow made it realer. It was silkier than he thought it would be, maybe she wasn't as damaged as he had initially though. He tilted her head and rinsed the shampoo from it. "There, you're done."

"Done with what?" Azula asked, looking at her hands as thought they were the most interesting things in the world, as if they could explain to her all of the curiosities of the universe. "These make fire." She whispered to herself. She sat down on the ledge of the hot spring with her hands in her lap. Her soft golden stare never leaving them. Sokka started towards the center of the springs. "No! I don't know where the bottom is." She hollered.

Sokka sighed. He tugged her to her feet, helped her out of the spring and wrapped a towel around her.

"I'm gone." She spoked incredulous. "Where is the rest of me?"

For the time being he would let her wonder. It would keep her busy while went back to giving himself some much-needed pampering. His beard needed a good trim, he was getting scruffy, and not attractively so. Once quick peek in the mirror showed unruly facial hair that suck out rather unflatteringly. He found his discarded pants and fished in the pocket for his blade. Praying that Azula wouldn't do anything to startle him, he began trimming his facial hair to his content. He cast it aside and flexed at his reflection in the water. If Azula had anything to say about it later he had plenty of ammo to fire back.

Sokka was pleased to see that the princess had dressed herself, saving him the trouble of helping her. The cloth was longer than her arm and she had taken to rubbing the silk against her cheek. He carefully pulled her arm down before she could irritate the skin.

For their entire journey back to her room she seemed like she was doing decently well so he was surprised when she gave a sudden yelp. Holding her head, she yelled it him to get it off, giving him no details as to what it was. But whatever this thing was, it was allegedly the cause of her head pain.

When he went to fetch Katara, he was twice as surprised to come back and see her tucking her pouch of Ruby Tears back into her dresser.


	20. Chapter 20

"I'm sorry, Sokka." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She pressed her cheek into the pillow.

"You should apologize to yourself, not me." He replied, rubbing circles over her back, when that failed to soother her, he tried trailing his fingers through Azula's locks. She seemed to get more comfort out of that so he kept it up.

"I had to do it." She muttered. "I couldn't take it anymore."

Were it not tucked under her pillow, he would have taken her hand. "Maybe you should just focus on one thing first. You haven't thought about cactus juice in a while."

"That sounds nice right now." She replied. Her head was still beating. The only thing the intake of tears seemed to do for her was ease the tremors. At least for a few hours, they were back and worse than before. She found herself lapsing in and out of periods of confusion, periods where she couldn't remember what she had said or done.

Nights and days blended together. Three or four may have passed, but she couldn't say for sure. It didn't really matter how many had gone by, things didn't seem to get any easier. She felt queasy and sore all the time. Her eyes burned and watered and her chest constantly constrained. The only thing that kept her going were the days she allowed herself a pinch of the tears—every other day, just enough to her a lift. Today was one such day. Combined with the cactus juice withdrawal, she knew she was in for another restless night. But she sprinkled some of the reddish powder onto the dresser regardless. She tired to get Sokka to step out for a moment, she could never seem to inhale the tears when he was in the room. It brought her a sense of discomfort to have someone watching her ruin herself. This time Sokka didn't step out, instead he reclined in her armchair.

"Not this time." He replied. "I know what you're doing, I don't see what difference it makes to send me away."

"You said you paint?" Azula asked.

He crinkled his brows, "what does that have to do with anything?"

"Do you like people watching you paint?"

"No, but…"

"They know that you're painting, so why does it matter." Azula mumbled, pushing the powder around with her finger.

"It just feels weird and uncomfortable." He replied. "I feel like I'm being judged.

"Exactly." Azula agreed as she pulled him to his feet. With what remained of her energy, she tugged him across the room and heaved him into the hallway.

"I won't judge you." He tried as she started to shut her door.

"How about this, you show me that painting you keep talking about, and I'll let you stay." She offered.

"Ya know what, I think I like it out here. This hallway is pretty nice." He smiled. "That is one lovely vase." His false interest was lightly amusing, she almost stayed to listen to him ramble on, but the tears called. Whatever he was painting he was protective over it. She decided that it must be truly mortifying if he would rather yield and let her inhale the tears in peace. Frankly, it peaked her curiosity—one day, when she was better, she would search out this mysterious painting. She stashed the pouch back to where she had retrieved it from and beckoned Sokka back inside. She sat herself down upon her bed and with her last minutes of coherence, switched out the dressings on her foot. It was taking a while, much longer than usual to recover from her infection and even from the trivial scrapes and bruises. It was becoming a nuisance, one she hoped would vanish when she finally found the strength to separate from the Ruby Tears once and for all. She fell back onto the bed and waited for her perception to alter. For a brief period she thought about what it must be like for Sokka to watch her stumble around and babble nonsensically. She ought to be embarrassed. She, for the first time, considered how odd it was that she was more uncomfortable with Sokka watching her take the tears than to witness her on them. The musings slowly muffled until they became no more, replaced by wispy and light music in pitches and melodies she'd never heard before. It was like spirit music, soft, lulling spirit music. She could have been humming along, she thinks that she was.

.oOo.

Azula is again lost in her own world. At least these past few times, her world hasn't been petrifying, it seemed to make her happy. He just wished that her happiness wasn't so artificial. She helped him realize that he'd rather be miserable and angry than engrossed in some kind of mock joy. For once she was rather mellow, she lie on the bed staring at something he couldn't see; something that made her smile, that made her laugh. If only he could manage to do that, maybe then she wouldn't have taken the tears.

Perhaps, he pondered, he should try it. His humor had ruined a lot of things, had pushed a lot of people away. But those people already had laugher. Maybe he could give his jokes to someone who could use them. Though he didn't think his sense of humor was the same as Azula's. It couldn't hurt to try. If she took well to his jests, he might be able to tell them without fear.

He sighed to himself, he was placing a lot on Azula whether she knew it or not. He felt guilty all over again. He was placing his wellbeing on her and she didn't even know it. He was placing his peace of mind and happiness on someone who was struggling to maintain her own. Deep down he felt like he was using her more than he was supporting her. Not for the first time he speculated that he was helping her only to meet his own ends. Would he stick around if he found himself in a more stable place? Would it matter if he didn't? She was always one to assist people when it would suit her needs, why should he care?

"Hey, socks?" Her voice was soft. Innocent almost.

"Sokka." He corrected.

She gave him a dismissive hand flap. "Thanks for staying with me." She reached her hand out and snatched at something he couldn't see, with a whispered, 'caught it', before she turned her focus back to him. "I'm happy you stayed."

In those four words he decided that it did matter if he used her. In those for words he knew that he would stick around even if he found that he didn't need her anymore. And in those four words he realized that he couldn't possibly be using her, he cared for her. As truly infuriating as she could be, he had told her the truth when she asked him if he did. Still, that didn't change that he was placing a heavy burden on unsuspecting shoulders.

Her look was very far away but she spoke again. "No one has ever stayed with me before. I'm glad you stayed." She was on her feet and moving about as if seeking something or someone out. "I like you, Sokka." She made off as though she were plucking something from the wall. She stroked whatever it was before pulling his arm out. In his palm she placed something she clearly thought was beautiful. Fleetingly, he wished he could see it too.

She folded her arms around him and nestled her cheek against his chest. Against what might have been his better judgment, he returned the first gesture and let her coo kind things to him as she tapped her finger on his torso. Mostly about how he was helpful but with a sprinkle of comments on his abs and the like. He had to admit it has been some time since anyone has given him praise or acknowledgement. Coming from her, it seemed somehow more flattering.

He didn't know how much of it was the drugs talking and how much of it was the princess herself. It didn't matter, it felt good to be praised. Maybe just this once, he would accept a possibly false sense of joy.

He hoped that she would remember the moment.

He would.

.oOo.

Azula woke feeling dizzy and feverish, she didn't know that she could even call what she had done waking up. It had become the norm for her to feel surreal sensations. Ambiances that she, even with all of the extravagant literacy she'd acquired, couldn't describe. But the feeling that came over her was particularly indescribable. Whenever she thought she'd picked out a word for the feeling, it left her mind. It alarmed her, usually the trips didn't last so long. She couldn't recall a time where they lingered into the next morning. Something was different, she couldn't place it.

She remained in such a state for hours, slowly detaching from herself in a way she never had before. She couldn't seem to feel her weight, couldn't feel her body at all. She would move her arm, left and right, slowly and then quickly. Azula could see the motion, she knew she was moving, but she couldn't feel it. It was like watching someone else's hand.

"Azula are you alright?" Sokka asked. "What are you doing with your hand over there." He cracked a smile.

And when she answered, the words didn't seem to come from her own lips, "I'm fine, my hand just fell asleep." She didn't think that, that was a lie, but she didn't know that it was the truth either.

She let him return to his book.

When sensation did return, there was a fuzzy sort of electric feeling in her hand. Though she wasn't working with her bending. The tingling continued. There was a peculiar taste in her mouth like copper maybe, mixed with salt. Azula ran her finger over her lips and on the inside of her cheek, they came up free of blood. Nothing explained the metallic taste. "Can you get me something to eat?" She asked, she wasn't especially hungry but she would do just about anything to rid herself of the taste.

"Sure, what do you have in mind?" He asked.

"It doesn't matter. Just no duck meat, I don't like duck."

"I think I can manage that." He replied.

She rolled onto her side, waiting for the tingling to subside.

.oOo.

Sokka never knew what to expect when leaving Azula. He loathed leaving her on her own because she always seemed to have a surprise for him when he returned. He was growing weary of surprises. He greeted Toph first. "Long time no see."

"Long time, never saw." Toph rose her eyes. "It's good to talk to you again Sokka."

"How is Azula?" Aang asked. "Katara said she seemed better."

"I guess in some ways she is." Sokka replied.

"Does she need another waterbending session?" Katara asked.

Sokka was hit with another pang of guilt. Lately all he'd been doing was coming downstairs to ask Katara to pacify Azula. "No, she needs something to eat. How have you been, Katara?"

"I'd be better if you came down more often." He could hear some resentment in her voice and he didn't blame her for it. He would ask her to visit but Azula still didn't take well to guests. She still had too many secrets to guard.

"I'll try to." Sokka replied. He meant it, with any luck he could get Azula in a comfy enough state to leave her room for a few minutes. It would do her well to talk to other people. "I'll see if I can get Azula to tag along."

"Good luck with that." Toph grumbled.

"I think that sounds great." Aang smiled.

He turned back to Katara as he prepared a meal for he and Azula. "Anything interesting happen down here."

"Zuko and Appa got into a fight," Katara replied, "that was pretty interesting."

"He lost." Toph added.

"What was it over." Sokka asked.

"I parked him to close to where his palanquin is usually parked." Aang explained. "He threatened to give me a fine."

"I think Zuko's getting bored. He hasn't had many problems lately so he's trying to make some." Katara rolled her eyes. "It's very like him to do that."

Sokka laughed, he forgot how much he missed his crew. The price of caring for Azula was becoming apparent. He let himself dwell on it a bit more. Was he coddling her? She was doing well enough staying away from the cactus juice, it might not hurt to leave her by herself for a little while. He could go for some fresh air. "Maybe we can go have a picnic in the palace garden?" Sokka offered. "After I give Azula her food."

"That sounds wonderful, Sokka."

It struck him then that he hadn't had a picnic since the one with Suki, suddenly his own suggestion lost its appeal.

"You're still alive!" Zuko laughed. "I didn't know if I was going to see you again."

"Yeah." He said rubbing his head. "I'm still around."

"Azula isn't' giving you a hard time, is she?" He asked.

"Maybe a little." It was and understatement. "She's alright though." Even as he spoke, he couldn't help but think of what surprise she might have in store for him when he came back to her. Of all of the scenarios that played out in his mind—from her complaining about his cooking and refusing to eat it to her downing a bottle of cactus juice—he didn't imagine the scene she actually had prepared for him.

He thought he would give her a surprise of her own. Zuko was rather insistent on checking on her. So long as she was still in bed, she probably couldn't get too angry. As always, she was one step ahead of him.

He found her on the ground, her body twitching and spasming, a light froth bubbling between her lips.

She must have hit her head on the way down, a steady flow of read trickled between her eyes. His platter collided with the floor. When he looked to his left Zuko was gone, likely to fetch Katara. Once again Azula would have the palace in turmoil. He snatched up a pillow and put it beneath her head. Agni knew how many times it had already knocked against the floor.

Her eyes met his for a second before flickering away. She was in a perilous state and he couldn't do anything for her. He clenched his teeth. He was going to lose it again. He couldn't, not yet. He didn't know if he said it more to convince himself or to convince her, "it's going to be alright, you're going to be just fine." Sokka didn't even know if she could hear him. But he took her hand and held it until the jerking came to a stop.

He wiped her mouth and stroked the back of her hand. Her awareness waned, he was cradling a limp body in his arms. "You just got back." He mumbled, "you can't leave me too."

Just like that he was gone again, thrown right back into the past when he held sea-logged Suki's body for the first time. She was wet and cold and didn't feel human. Her lips a sickly blue, skin unnaturally puffy. It didn't matter that Azula's body was still very warm nor that her skin still had patches of color. In that moment there was no separation between she and Suki.

"You have to let go of her, Sokka." Katara tried gently as she worked to pry his hands away.

He wouldn't let her do it, he wouldn't let her take Suki from him again.

"If you don't let go of her, we can't help her." Katara tried once more.

He clutched Azula closer. He wouldn't let them burry Suki again. In retrospect, Sokka couldn't hold it against Zuko. As harsh as knocking him out was, they probably wouldn't have been able to take Azula in any other way. The firebender came to before he did. From the sound of it she was still dizzy and disoriented. Her voice sounding hazy and puzzled.

Zuko left him with little time to regain his bearings. He could see the temper, so characteristic of his family, flaring in his eyes. As soon as Sokka sat up, the Fire Lord had him pulled to the side. "Sokka, what's wrong with her?" He demanded quite roughly. "I want the truth this time."

Part of Sokka wanted to throw it back at him and ask when he started to care. Wanted to ask, where he has been this whole time. He didn't have the energy for a fight, even if he did, he didn't want a fight. But he didn't want to sever the little trust he had acquired with Azula.

"We can't really help her if we don't know what's wrong." Katara added. "Please, tell us what's going on."

Azula was going to be pissed, very much so. With as much dejection as he felt he answered, "she's on drugs."


	21. Chapter 21

Zuko stared at her for a lengthy time and under his scrutiny she was growing uncomfortable. He wasn't like Sokka, he had plenty of judgement to pass and, perhaps, every right to do so. She made a point of keeping her expression as dull and undaunted as possible. It probably looked more exhausted, but that was better than how she actually felt. Once or twice he flexed his jaw like he was going to ask her something, like he was figuring out how to. But he couldn't so he pressed his lips together again. He had a look of disappointment plastered all over his face, to whom it was directed Azula couldn't be certain. She assumed it was for both she and Sokka and maybe even for himself, for not being able to keep his little sister from trouble. If Ursa was in the room it might have been for her too, if Zuko could muster it up to feel any sort of bitterness towards her.

Sokka offered her his hand, a few hours ago she would have taken it. In present she slapped it away—a stinging blow that had him rubbing it with all the demeanor of a kicked deer-puppy. The seizure had put her in a crankier mood than ever and his blatant betrayal of her trust didn't help any. Even less helpful were Zuko's unspoken judgements. "If you have something to say, just do it." Azula hissed, tired of waiting. "You and Iroh were pretty open about your opinions in the past. So, come on then."

"How long?" He asked.

"How long, what?" She was going to make him say it, it would be as painful for him as it was for her.

"How long have you been doing…" She waited until he finally finished, "drugs?"

She shrugged, "I've lost track. Maybe a year, maybe a bit longer."

"Which ones?"

"One." Azula corrected. "Ruby Tears. Two if you count cactus juice. Three if you include tobacco, not that you can say anything about that, you have a kiseru of your own." Always one to salt the wound she added, "in fact, I borrowed one of yours."

He flinched, but otherwise ignored the last sentiment. They were talking about her right now. "Where did you get them?"

Azula held her tongue, she'd sooner cut it out than give that one up. For better or for worse Chan had done a lot for her. She owed him at least her silence, and she would hold to it unlike some people.

"Azula, where did you get them?"

She was the little sister, she decided she may as well act the part and rolled over to face away from him. Of course, that meant she was now facing Sokka who also needed some snubbing. So she rolled on to her stomach instead—less effective in showing Zuko that he was being ignored, but it would have to do.

"I can't believe you would hide this from us, Sokka." Katara said just under a shout. "Azula, sure, but you?" At this Azula sniffed indigently.

"I thought I could handle things on my own."

"An institution full of people couldn't handle her on their own." Zuko took up a stance behind Katara.

"Did they really try though?" Sokka asked.

Azula smirked. It was rather cute that he was still defending her as though she wasn't irrevocably pissed. "Their very best." She muttered sarcastically before she remembered that she wasn't talking to him anymore.

Katara pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is exactly why I didn't want you to do this. She's going to get you hurt."

"As I do best." Azula agreed. If they were going to talk about her, she decided that she would sprinkle her input in here and there. She still felt hazy and tired though and couldn't seem to come up with any noteworthy comebacks. Tired indeed.

She could let herself drift off for just a moment…

Just one small…

.oOo.

"Don't tell me you helped her get them Sokka." Zuko grumbled, "I swear if you helped had anything to do with…"

"I didn't, I'm the one who told her to stop in the first place. I don't even know where she got them."

"But you thought it was a good idea to hide this from us?" Katara asked.

Sokka could feel his patience fading. "I'm a big boy, Katara, a grown man, I don't have to tell you everything I do." He almost didn't put the rest of his thoughts out there, "you always forget that I'm the older brother, don't you?"

"Then act like it!" She shouted.

"Maybe you are a grown man who can make his own decisions." Zuko agreed. "But don't you think I deserve to know what's happening with my little sister?" He asked.

"If you cared so much maybe you should have checked up on her before I did." Sokka argued. He folded his arms, the entire conversation was growing tiresome, it was nothing they haven't yelled at him for in the past.

As it were his snappy, but not untrue, outburst had both Katara and Zuko ripping in on him. Both seemed to shout as loudly as the other, effectively cancelling each other out, he couldn't really hear one over the other. And as much as he enjoyed listening to the pair chew him out, he had to cut off their rants. "Umm. Katara. Zuko" Sokka pointed to the princess who had fallen limp once again.

With another snappy, "what!?" the pair followed the direction of his finger.

"She's fine, Sokka. She just needs recuperate, especially after a seizure like that, let her sleep."

Sokka bit his lip, eyeing the fresh bandages on her forehead. It seemed like they had only just taken the other ones off. The number of welts and bumps splayed upon her body brought a tightness to his heart, it seemed as if she was only collecting more and more of them.

"I didn't know that Ruby Tears caused seizures." Zuko frowned.

"They don't, as far as I've heard." And before he could ask Katara added, "neither does cactus juice. But coming off of them does."

"You've seen it before?" Sokka asked.

"I'm a healer." Katara replied as she turned Azula onto her back again, allowing for her breaths to come easier.

"She's trying to quit?" Zuko asked, a hint of relief coming over his eyes.

"For about a week or so now." Sokka gave a faint smile. "She's doing pretty good. Hasn't touched the cactus juice. She was off of the tears for a while too but it didn't quite work out, she's been using them less though. We're taking it one at a time."

Katara's expression softened. "Alright, maybe you can handle this better than I thought. But not alone, she needs a healer; it's dangerous to quit, maybe not as much as staying on them but…"

"I get the point, Katara."

"And you could use some moral support." Katara added. She peered at Azula, "both of you can." She turned to Zuko, "right?"

He bit the inside of his cheek. "Right."

.oOo.

For a while, Zuko never took his eyes off of his sister, his expression was grim and faintly distant. She looked breakable, worn, and weak. The perfection she had held herself to was null, not a semblance of it remained. With her hair in disarray and her clothing wrinkled and mismatched—perhaps unwashed though worn days in a row—she was a far cry from the pristine polished version of herself that she valued so highly. That she used to hold so dear, he considered that flawlessness didn't matter to her at all at this point. On the other hand, maybe it mattered more than ever, but she was so far from achieving it that her mind was in distress. Everyone had been so adamant about wanting her to change but none of the were willing to help her do it. He wanted her to change, but not like this. He wanted more than anything to be the superior, the one that people praised and adored. He wanted her to feel the scorn and humbling shame that he did. But now that he has seen it, he wasn't certain that he was pleased with the fulfillment of his wishes. All the same he found himself wishing that she'd change again, but this time for the better.

Though Zuko supposed that he shouldn't be too shocked that she changed for the worse and surprised at the state of her. He knew that Azula wasn't doing well, he'd known it for a long time. But he had never imagined that she would bury her pain with drugs, she was never one to flee from her problems like that. Maybe her problems had simply grown too crushing to fight. He wondered how long she had put up one before finally caving, he wondered what finally pushed her that far. Or if it was her problems themselves that did it at all; it might have been that she had no one to help her face them. That she had no one to guide her through the process of transforming for the better.

Not like he did.

He should have checked on her more, dropped in at least once or twice to ask her if she needed anything. Even if he were to have been met with angry words and flurries of sparks, it would have been better than having done nothing at all. But then, before he had stopped visiting her, she was wholly intolerable most of the time. She never wanted he nor Iroh around and would throw dangerous fits if anyone even suggested brining Ursa to her. Azula did a fabulous job at pushing them all away. Most days it had seemed like she was throwing all of her effort and energy into making herself as detestable as possible, bringing out only the worst of herself. Only the most violent, irrational side of herself until everyone decided that, that side was the whole of her personality.

It made it that much easier to give up on her.

The side that she displayed in current was desperate and solemn almost helpless. Perhaps lost and afraid, he wasn't certain of that though. All of her deadpan answers to his little interrogation had an undercurrent of loneliness and the resentment of someone neglected.

All of her commentary towards Katara didn't have the sarcastic edge she probably hoped for. He sensed that she truly believed that all she did was hurt people. He probably hadn't done a think to make her feel any other way. No one, save for Sokka had indicated otherwise.

The worst of it was that, right to the end he seemed to be giving her a hard time. All he had for her earlier were rapid fire questions, not words of comfort. Not even so much as an, "are you feeling a little better?" Even when she was down he was kicking her and it discomforted him to know that he was getting somewhat of a kick out of it. To be on the giving end instead of the receiving end of humiliation and disappointment. She had beaten him when he was at his lowest, why shouldn't he deal her the same. He shook his head as if to chase away those thoughts, he didn't want to feel like so. He wanted to clear the bad blood. All the same, he still wanted an apology though. An apology for all she had put him through when they were younger and for the most recent times she'd troubled him.

Zuko wanted a reason to help her, other than the dull feeling that he had a familial duty to do so. For the first time in a long while he felt conflicted and confused again.

He was concerned for her.

Sympathetic, but he owed her nothing.

.oOo.

Waking up was the hardest part, it always was. It required the energy that she didn't have. Azula didn't really want to wake up at all. She might not pine for death as she had in the past but it seemed rather ideal to slumber for a while longer, to sleep the days away until her body finally came out of whatever it was going through. She would have dreams for company, her dreams had been surprisingly pleasant lately. Maybe that was why Ruby Tears held so much appeal. They were as close as she could get to a dream in wakefulness.

She expected the pain to bombard her in full when she finally shed the remains of her sleep. But it didn't happen, her stomach wasn't quite as squeamish and save for dull throbbing where her head at struck the floor she didn't ache quite as bad. She took advantage of it and heaved herself into a sitting position. A quick glace around the room told her that she was alone again, coaxing an immediate, almost instinctual jab of betrayal to her heart. She balled her fists, they'd left her again. The anger seemed to intensify the throbbing. She stared at the chair Sokka had been sitting in and it subsided. His bag was still on the floor brimming with art supply, snacks, and a pair of extra socks. Wherever he was, he would be back eventually. Until then she was left to her lonesome. She grazed her fingers over the back of her head where the pounding sensation was most intense. A generous knot indicated just how hard the impact must have been. She cringed, hoping she didn't knock away anymore of her mind. She closed her eyes and waited for a particularly forceful pulse to come to pass. When it did she found herself toying with one of the bandages on her forehead.

Just like that, she was alone no longer. "Stop that! I put those there for a reason." Katara shouted.

She heard a pair of clumsy feet shuffling down the hall. She knew it must be Sokka, his footsteps were always needlessly loud. "You're awake!"

"Clearly." Azula muttered.

"I'm glad you are."

"Only because you won't have to take the brunt of the nagging." She shrugged. "Exactly how much did you have to endure while I was out?"

"Not too much, actually." He laughed as Katara grumbled, "I wasn't nagging."

"Where's Zu-Zu?" She asked.

"Don't you want to know how long you've been out for?" Sokka asked.

Azula shrugged. The days all blurred and blended anyhow. With the amount of times she'd been blacking out lately, she assumed she must be missing at least two or three weeks of her life already. "It doesn't really matter anymore."

"It's been three days." Katara replied anyhow.

Azula squeezed her eyes shut again as the pounding in her head set in deeper. She slumped back onto the mattress.

"Here, let me." Katara offered. Azula heard the rush of water before a finding her head draped in cool wetness. Soothing enough, it would seem that the waterbender was able to efficiently take the edge off of her symptoms. "You're doing very well by the way. It shouldn't hurt as much now that the cactus juice is almost out of your system."

Effectively distracted from her initial inquiry, Azula replied, "it is?"

Katara nodded. "I'd say maybe another week or two and it'll be over. The symptoms will get weaker and weaker until you can't even feel them." She smiled.

"At least with the cactus juice." She mumbled.

"That's still progress." Sokka pointed out.

Azula wished that she could feel more enthusiastic. Really, she ought to be ecstatic, it was one less addiction she had to overcome. But the Ruby Tears had always been more potent and their effects much more agonizing. She was willing to bet that the shaper of her ailments were from being away from them so long. Perhaps, more than that she wondered if it was an accomplishment at all that she still craved the drink and its earthy-sweet tang on her tongue. Maybe her body wouldn't year for it anymore, but everything else did. Her dismal bought of pessimism must have made it to her eyes, Sokka gave her hand a squeeze. Where was the sense of accomplishment that she should be feeling? Why did she feel like she didn't achieve anything at all?

Looking as bright and strangely optimistic as ever, Sokka said, "you should be proud of yourself, you did most of this on your own."

Somehow his encouraging words had the opposite effect. He was giving her too much credit, she wouldn't have made any progress if he hadn't been there to make her feel uncomfortable abusing herself. She flexed her fingers just to give herself something to do. The scars on her wrists rippled with the motion. She swallowed the lump in her throat. It was time for a subject change, "where's Zu-Zu?" She asked again.

"Do you want me to get him for you?" Katara asked.

"No, I was just asking for laughs." She spat sarcastically, "yes, I want you to get him." At once she regretted it. The woman had been working so tediously to make sure she was comfortable and even still, all Azula had for her was harsh demands and resentment. What was wrong with her? She thought she should toss on a 'please', just to take the sting off. But just like she couldn't bring herself to ask for help, she couldn't bring herself to do that either. So instead she forced a cough and tried again. "I'd like that, it would be helpful."

Apparently backtracking had worked for once, the irritated sparkle in Katara's eye dimmed. "Why are the two of you so bad at being good?" She muttered to herself.

"Assholery is a family trait." Sokka declared for her. At least he was honest and she couldn't quite dispute it either. After Katara had left he asked, "what do you need him for? He's been really grumpy lately."

"I don't know." Azula admitted. It may have been that the prospect of tormenting herself was gaining appeal again. How much could she take before she completely lost herself again? With the waterbender well out of earshot she decided to test how the truth felt on her lips, "I want to know if he cares."

It felt awful. Awful and embarrassing.

"He cares, that's why he's so mad that you would do this to yourself."

Still, she wanted to hear it from him.

.oOo.

Awake, Azula looked twice as dismal. Her expression was curiously blank and lackluster. Regardless, various kinds of hurt radiated about her. She hadn't yet noticed that he had arrived (with Katara in tow) and so she didn't shove Sokka and his comforting embrace away. Zuko couldn't hear what he was saying from his distance, but she seemed at least somewhat consoled. At this point Zuko was fighting to cling to his bitterness.

He couldn't imagine how many times Iroh had been frustrated with him like this. He was well aware that the two of them, he and Azula, weren't so different at all. Agni knew that he didn't want to let go of his anger, it was all that kept him together. But Iroh didn't give up on him. So he wouldn't give up on her. He decided that he would let the past go once and for all.

At last she noticed him and swatted Sokka away from her, for the sake of negating what he'd just witnessed. "Azula." He stated simply.

"Good afternoon, Zu-Zu…for you anyways, I'm having a terrible time." She greeted.

"I can see that." Zuko replied. "Did you call me here to give me a hard time.

Azula knit her brows. "No. That's not what I was going to do." The tone of her voice was as fleeting as the look that crossed her face. It was quickly replaced by the devious words he was used to. "But I can if you want me to."

"Then what do you want?" He asked.

"First of all, I want you to stop looking at me like that." Azula replied.

"Like what?"

"Like I need pity." She shrugged.

"Then what do you need." He asked again. Getting any sort of answer from her was harder than capturing Aang ever was. "Why did you have Katara bring me here."

"I need to know that you don't hate me."

Zuko cringed, even at her lowest she still knew how to get to him, how to bring that which confused him to the surface. "I never hated you." He couldn't name a time when he'd seen someone roll their eyes harder than she just had. "I never completely hated you."

Her unamused aura never faltered. "You're a dreadful liar."

Zuko sighed. "You didn't make it difficult."

Azula flicked at her bangs, "I know." He thought she may have started to draw back, he could see all sorts of walls raising.

"I don't hate you anymore." He sputtered earnestly. "I helped Sokka look for you."

"So you could make sure that the streets were safe again?"

"To make sure you were safe again. I was worried about you."

"You shouldn't have been. What have I ever done for you?"

"You gave me drive. Something to do between chasing Aang and cursing our father." At this she snickered. "Believe it or not, you helped me realize that I didn't want to follow in father's footsteps." He had a feeling that, that was the wrong choice of words. He always was bad at reassuring people. He had an idea, how well it would work, he couldn't say.

.oOo.

He probably hadn't meant for it to bother her. But it did, her failures made him feel better about himself. With her well and damaged, he looked like a saint. She was only good for anyone when she was on the ground. So maybe she should stay there.

"Maybe, you should hate me too." Zuko spoke again.

She wanted to be humored, "now why is that?"

"I told you to fix yourself but I didn't try to support you. I should have tried harder."

In the same way she had tested Sokka, she was going to try him. "Should you have?" But she knew in her heart that it wasn't true. He had every reason to resent her and leave her on her own. This was no test, it was genuine speculation. With all of her soul, she wanted to stay mad, at he and Sokka both; it kept her from the sadness. It kept her from lashing out at herself. But she couldn't, not when he was putting blame on himself where it didn't belong. She could feel something breaking. She didn't want pity nor someone to baby her. But at the same time, she did. She wanted it so badly, it was just like the tears. She didn't want to pick up the pieces alone, but she wanted the satisfaction of saying that she was able. She wanted to feel secure again, to look at herself how she used to.

"Yes, I should have. Iroh never left me to self-destruct no matter how many times I pushed him away. Even when I thought he did, he was always there."

"You don't have to do everything alone." Sokka added. She supposed he had already gotten a sense of her as he added, "it doesn't make you look weak to let someone help."

"It took me way too long to realize that." Zuko nodded.

"What are you saying?" Azula asked.

"I guess that you remind me of me." He offered a half-smile.

"Well that was a low blow." Azula crinkled her nose. "I didn't realize you had such a cruel streak." Words aside, that might have been the most reassuring thing she could have ever heard. Everyone loved Zu-Zu. Everyone thought him noble and good on all accounts, something that could never be said for her. "We're nothing alike." She disagreed.

"No, I think I see the resemblance." Katara argued.

Azula tried another joke, "you peasants are brutal today." It made her feel somewhat better, but the tingle of amusement didn't last. "People enjoy your company, Zu-Zu. As truly sickening as it is, you're a good person."

Something flashed in Zuko's eyes, as if he'd just had the most intelligent thought in the world. "Before Katara got me I was with Aang and Toph, enjoying the palace garden. Do you want to join us?" He offered.

Though the offer was pretty, Azula didn't know if she wanted to leave the bed, even if she did, she wasn't sure that she wanted the rest of them to see her in such disarray. But then, 'the rest' was only two more people. "You'll have to drag me outside."

"Great, we'll meet you outside." Sokka replied. Her protests fell on def ears.


	22. Chapter 22

They had left the decision with her, which usually always proved to be a mistake. She had been longing for the glory of helping herself get better, so she would give it to herself. Getting up was trickier than she anticipated. She was weak with hunger and withdrawal. But she stood anyhow, she needed to get dressed and in something more coordinated at that. Her stride from the bed to the doorway was annoyingly slow and more taxing than it should have been. They'd probably be back inside before she even made it to her room. She emerged from the healing chambers to see Sokka waiting for her a little way down the hall. He probably knew that she would tag along. "Outside is that way." He pointed.

"And my closet is this way." She pointed in the other direction. She wasn't sure if he planned to meet her outside or if he'd be accompanying her to her room until she heard the flutter of cloth behind her. She should have known that he'd follow her. "I still don't like you." She commented.

"You know you're lying, right?" He asked.

She was indeed, well aware.

The hallway seemed to lurch, taking her pace down a few notches until she came to a pause with her hand plastered to the wall and her head slumped some as the black fuzz cleared form her vision. Sokka slipped his arms around her waist, waiting to catch her should she pitch forward. She righted herself and pulled out of his hold. The rest of her trip across the palace went remotely smoothly. Once in her room she discarded her old attire, taking the extra time to fold it neatly and place it by the door for the serving girls.

.oOo.

"Why do you do this to me?" Sokka asked.

Azula tossed a look over her bare shoulder, "do what?" She continued to pick through her clothing.

He turned to face away from her.

"You've seen me without clothes before, many times." She waved it off. "So I don't see why it matters anymore."

"You remember that?"

"Vaguely." She found something to her liking and pulled it from the hanger. With the cloth in her grasp he could more easily pick out the tremble of her once steady hands. This time the choice was more elaborate; a long, vivid red kimono with swirls of gold running the length of it and a string of rubies sewn into the sleeves.

"Why so fancy?" Sokka asked.

"Just have to remind everyone of who they're talking to." Azula shrugged as she pulled the fabric around her. She riffled through her dresser, at first Sokka though she would only be finding the obi that went with her kimono. But as soon as she found that, she searched out her pouch of Ruby Tears.

"Do you need to do that right now?" He asked.

"I haven't had my fix in days." She noted, as if that made it any better. But she was feeling sick and it needed to be alleviated.

"You're going to be talking to all of my friends." Sokka pointed out.

"Well thanks to your 'impeccable' silence, they already know anyways." She countered. "They might as well see it too." She could see that she was making him angry. At best he was simply peeved. At worst he was disappointed. "I thought we've established that we…that I'm taking things one at a time."

"Yes, and Katara said that the cactus juice is almost out of your system."

"Yes, but not completely." She replied, even she knew that she was just trying to extend her abuse for as long as she possibly could. She'd let Sokka think what he will of her. Perhaps she should have spent the remaining few lucid minutes getting to the palace gardens and having a somewhat coherent conversation with the gang. Instead she used it to fancy herself up. At first she only applied a touch of makeup before moving onto her hair and working the tangles out of it. Between the seizure and the hospital bed it was decently knotted, she thought that those knots defeated the point of having short locks. She added a thick layer of red to her nails, it would match her attire and hide the yellow tint. By the time it dried she decided that she hadn't applied enough makeup; she had to cover the uneven tones of her skin. She had to cover a lot. She refused to believe Sokka when he insisted that it wasn't necessary to do so—he was only offering her praise in order to get her outside quicker. Maybe years ago she could have believed him, but those days were gone. She wings her eyeliner and decides that she is ready.

.oOo.

He'd never known anyone to take so long getting ready, he wondered if the others were even still outside. But the firebender was finally ready so he led her down the hall. He imagined that she was already slightly out of sorts.

If she wasn't, she sure was by the time they made it outside.

He could always tell when she wasn't exactly with him, her gait would always be looser and her attention divided. He almost didn't want to bring her out with him. But even at the slightest implication that she should go back inside and rest, she would give him a pout and pick up her pace as if she needed to beat him to the door.

The day was almost uncomfortably bright and Azula was holding an arm over her eyes. He squinted against the light.

"You didn't bring your art?" Aang asked.

"I brought something else." He motioned to Azula, "she'll keep me busy enough." He watched her scope out a place to sit and flop down.

"Good afternoon, Azula." Aang greeted cheerfully.

It took her a moment but she replied, "hello, avatar."

"You look nice today." Aang offered.

Azula smoothed a hand over the silks of her robe. "I know."

"She doesn't know how to handle compliments." Sokka apologized for her, "what she means to say is, thank you."

"No, that's not what I meant." Azula replied. Sokka wished that she would show everyone else the side of her that she showed him. But he gathered that, that would be another slow undertaking.

"While you were gone I taught Aang to metalbend." Toph declared. "He's really awful but he can sometimes turn a door knob if he tries hard enough."

"That's great, Toph." Sokka replied. "Honestly, I'd love to be able to turn a door knob using bending." He didn't mean to sound so dismal. He gave his boomerang a flick and waited for it to return. "I kind of miss tossing this thing around at people."

"You still can." Azula replied. "People will just think you're a jackass. Granted I was always under that impression."

"Yeah, only because I threw it at you!" He exclaimed.

"You haven't thrown it at me in a while and I still think you're a jackass."

"I knew it." Toph smirked.

"Knew what?" Sokka asked.

"You two are dating." She said smugly.

Sokka blushed. "We are not! I-I'm just trying to be supportive." He sputtered.

"If you say so." Toph shrugged. He was surprised that she let it go so quickly and more surprised that he hadn't. As the rest of the group carried on a conversation about Zuko's plans to trade with the Earth Kingdom he found his own mind curiously distant. He never really though about dating her one way or another. He supposed that if Toph—if anyone—saw the full picture it would be hard to refute Toph's assumption. He was spending so much time with her, he'd taken a bath with her, and she had just stripped in front of him, again. He had a nearly finished portrait of the princess, for Rava's sake. He stole a peek at Azula who stared at the clouds, only entering the conversation when she saw fit. Despite himself he found himself pondering what kind of girlfriend she would make.

"What are you thinking about, Sokka?" Katara asked.

"Sea prune stew!" Sokka exclaimed automatically. "I haven't had sea prune stew in a while, maybe you should have some of that imported."

"I'll think about it." Zuko replied.

"Gross." Azula remarked. "I'll start a blockade if it'll help keep sea prune stew from making it to our shores." And then to herself she mumbled, "I'm a one-woman blockade. I wouldn't even need boats to do it. I'll just stand in the water and tell everyone to go away."

Sokka decided then, as she rambled on, that Azula was not girlfriend material. What kind of person hated sea prune stew, anyways? It made him feel more at ease to pretend that it was a genuine reason. Yet a part of him wondered what it would be like if she crooned affectionate words to him without the Ruby Tears to coax her into doing so. What was he talking about, of course he didn't want that, he just wanted to help a person through a troubling time.

He continued to observe Azula carefully until he felt reassured that her trip wouldn't be so server. He let his guard down and opened up a debate with Zuko as to whether or not Zoa was the Fire Nation's best vocalist since Yona-Rom. Most of it included pretending to know anything about the latter.

Naturally that was when the princess decided it would be a good time to start acting weird.

Azula had struck up her own conversation with Aang of all people. Sokka's attention only perked when she asked, "I heard that avatars used to use Ruby Tears to get into the Avatar state." On its own the question wasn't particularly concerning, but she went ahead and added, "because I think that I'm in the Avatar state right now."

Sokka's face went red all over again as the princess inspected her hands for tattoos that she didn't have and for a glow that wasn't there. "I don't think you are."

"Hush Sokka, you're not the Avatar, you wouldn't understand these things."

Aang laughed with a small degree of discomfort. "Sokka's right, you're probably not in the Avatar state right now."

"Oh?" Azula replied. "If I'm not in the Avatar state then how do you explain that?" She pointed to a tree with a very self-satisfied grin.

"That's a tree." Aang replied.

"A spirit tree." Azula clarified. "It's offering me wisdom, maybe you should listen to it, Avatar." She crawled closer to the tree and put her hear against it. Cringing, Sokka opted to let her do so. With any luck, she would cling to the tree and remain quite as it spoke to her. With any luck, it would keep her busy.

There was no such luck. By dusk, Azula had taken to following Aang, in a manner of speaking anyhow; every time the Avatar moved, she would take to the direction his arrow pointed. "He's showing me the way." Azula whispered.

Sokka could feel the color rising higher in his cheeks. If she was the one making a fool of herself, why was he feeling all of the shame?

"She really is on drugs, isn't she!?" Toph nearly shouted.

Zuko clasped a hand over her mouth. "Not so loud!"

With a snorting chuckle she muttered, "that's awesome."

"No, it isn't." Sokka grumbled as Azula decided that it was time for her to master waterbending.

"You can't master waterbending." Aang tried, leaving Sokka to feel horrendously guilty. The man had barely tolerated him when he was on cactus juice.

"You don't believe in me?" Azula pouted.

Trying to avoid hurting the firebender, Aang replied, "y-you have to master airbending first. That's the order for a firebending Avatar. Fire, air, water, and then earth."

Azula nodded. "Alright air-man," she replied with a sweeping her arms out, "teach me to fly."

Sokka flinched again.

"This is incredible." Toph replied. "Hey, Avatar Azula, I can teach you to earthbend."

Zuko thumped her on the back of the head, "don't encourage this."

It was much too late for that, Aang was already taking her through the motions of the simplest airbending stance. With fate ever working against him, the wind decided to pick up only seconds after Azula made her attempt at it. It was delayed of course, but as far as the princess was concerned she was an airbending natural. She caught Sokka's gaze and winked at him. Even when no wind came, the tears supplied the sensations she needed, to think that it was working.

A few rock tosses and splashes in the pond later, Azula decided that she was a fully realized avatar. Upon declaring such she took to avoiding Zuko with everything she had. If he offered her a slice of bread or a bite of his moon peach she would dash out of his reach.

"Come on Azula, I'm trying to be nice." Zuko grumbled.

"A trap." She replied. "I see right through it. I know what you really want, you're going to capture me and hand me over to father."

Toph's unabashed laughter had her in tears. "Oh man, Twinkle Toes, I think she's a better Avatar than you."

"Hey, Avatar." Azula inquired. "What else do Avatars do?"

"They date Katara!" Toph cut in.

Azula eyed the waterbender. "If you say so."

"I'm already dating Katara." Aang tried.

"You're right." Azula agreed. "I'll have to find an equivalent."

"Okay, that's enough." Sokka stood up, he had to keep her from doing something completely humiliating. As he usually did when trying to calm her down, he set his hands on her shoulders.

He knew he had made a mistake when she smirked and said, "ah yes, an equivalent."

Before he could pull away, her lips were on his.


	23. Chapter 23

Azula refused to acknowledge the kiss, every time he'd ask about it she would switch the subject—usually to some complaint of a headache. And mercifully the gang chose not to bring it up again. But Sokka thought about it. He thought about it a lot during the passing days. And he didn't know how to feel about it. She was a little awkward…a lot awkward actually. He imagined that a kiss initiated by Ruby Tears couldn't be anything but weird. He somehow got the sense that she would be an awkward kisser even with a sharp mind. Regardless it was somewhat pleasant, for as little experience as the princess had with romance she was surprisingly good…and shockingly gentle. He told himself that he wouldn't want it to happen again, after all she was just a—well he didn't know what she was yet. But 'romantic partner' didn't seem like an appropriate title.

The rest of the month passed before the cactus juice had left the princess completely. She filled the hole it left with Ruby Tears and Sokka was helpless to keep her from doing so. With the cactus juice out of the way, she had made a habit of taking at least a pinch of Dragon's Breath every day. She was only making it harder on herself when the day came to start cleaning herself of it. But any vocalization of such was met with a vicious glare.

While she suffered out loud, he suffered in silence. He was horrified to admit that he debated asking Azula if he could try the Ruby Tears just once. He didn't want to put himself down that path though, so he would ignore his troubles to the best of his ability. He didn't speak to anyone else of it either. With Zuko finally putting in some effort into helping Azula, he didn't want to take the focus from her. It didn't help that he didn't quite know what had him in distress this time.

So the wall and his knuckles took most of the abuse.

.oOo.

Comparatively speaking, the month had been kind to Azula. It would seem that she was no longer completely unpleasant to be around, she was more or less a minor annoyance. Their tolerance of her, their willingness to converse with her took the sharpest stings away. It gave her something to take her mind off of the physical.

Toph seemed to be the fondest of her. The firebender assumed that it was because she provided the earthbender with many night's worth of comedy. She wasn't particularly thrilled that Sokka was brining her out when she was over-the-roof high and even less so that he wasn't trying to keep her in check. But whether she liked it or not, she craved the company and attention almost as much as the tears themselves.

Whether she liked it or not, she decided that Sokka's ridiculous friends were pretty alright. She hadn't mean for it but with new people to speak with, for those few remaining weeks of the month she talked to Sokka less.

More than anyone else, she talked to Zuko. It sent a jab in her chest to see him tense up when she approached. The month was drawing to a close and he still did it. They all—save for Sokka—usually did to varying degrees. They still didn't trust her anymore than she trusted them. She didn't quite understand their fear as they all had the upper hand this time around; in numbers and energy to fight, but more so in that they had leverage. Anyone of them could leak her secret and ruin her completely, sending another tingle of annoyance at Sokka for letting it out in the first place.

It never seemed to help her hold her tongue though.

Azula tossed her bag of Ruby Tears from one hand to the next. With the exception of Zuko, everyone was less uneasy when she was on them. It made her less out of place around them, she could say that for certain. She was under the impression that they only liked her when she was high.

Just another reason she couldn't bring herself to let go of them.

So when Katara told her that she was at least three days out of cactus juice detox, she pretended not to believe it.

She was laying down another trail of Ruby Tears to sniff up—a larger douse, she was going to go out in one last spectacular display—when Sokka kicked the door in. The man had been in a cranky state lately and was almost making her look cheerful. His sour mood might have aided in making her seem more sociable to the group. She ought to thank him. "My door has never hurt you." She commented.

"And your vase never hurt you." He grumbled.

"Actually, it was saying some pretty awful things." She declared.

"You said you would stop." He shouted, storming over to the powder on her dresser. For a moment she thought he would brush it away—he hadn't grown that brave yet.

"I'm going to." She replied, "eventually."

"No. You said that you would start detoxing on the tears after you finished with the cactus juice."

"I never specified how long after." She countered. Even in saying so she felt trashy and weak-willed. The intensity of Sokka's glower amplified the feeling tenfold. She wrapped her arms around herself and sat upon the bed. Usually he at least tried to hide his disgust, this time he wore it so plainly.

For a blissful few weeks she had allowed herself to forget the dangers. But, just like that everything that rattled her nerves came slamming back. Minho died with bloodshot eyes and yellowing blotchy skin. A quick glance at her arms revealed that she was much closer to that hue than she had been a month ago. She swallowed, she hadn't gotten that much worse had she? Just as daunting as that was the notion of another withdrawal seizure. She wondered if she could die while detoxing, such hadn't occurred to her before. But at this rate, with breaths growing hard to catch, a body growing sparser and fragile still, and energy becoming scarcer than ever she was heading there anyhow.

"Oh relax," she played it off with a nervous laugh and a contradictory languid flick of her bangs. She missed having the length to twirl them around her pointer. "It just so happens, that this is going to be the last time."

"It better be." Sokka muttered.

"Or what?" She rolled her eyes. "What's your problem."

"I don't have a problem." He replied much to quickly and at a pitch that indicated exactly the opposite. "You have a problem."

Wiping some of the powder from her nose, she responded, "clearly." Returning the pouch to its spot in the dresser she added, "but that doesn't mean you can't have one too."

"I'm fine."

Azula shrugged, "if you say so." She didn't believe him in the slightest. Better than anyone perhaps, she knew that 'I'm fine' indicated a world of unresolved issues. But in minutes her mind would be too dim to offer him anymore than nonsense. Even if it weren't so, she couldn't imagine herself being helpful anyhow. "Well you have an air monk to talk to if you decide that you aren't."

"And what will you be doing?" He asked, "every single time I leave you alone you almost get yourself killed." He huffed.

Azula frowned. "So dramatic. I've been managing just fine without you lately."

"Great, glad to know I'm useless to you."

.oOo.

Now that she was getting back on her feet, Sokka found himself wishing that he could knock her down again. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt her. He just wanted to feel important. He wanted her to cave in and take the tears more just so he could have someone to depend on him again.

She was making it plenty obvious that once the tears were out of his life, so would he. And he didn't want to lose her.

"Well now that you're all packed up, have fun with your trip." Sokka snarled. He was teetering so close to the edge. "If you need anything you can talk to the air monk." She snarled at the way he threw her words back at her.

Even so, she replied, "I didn't say that I didn't want you here."

Through the angry thoughts whirring in his head, he didn't hear her. He stormed away, knowing very well that he was being irrational and inconsistent. He didn't know how he'd react if she followed him, but she didn't give him the chance to find out.

The part of him that wasn't seeing red was screaming for him to go back. To make sure she rode this trip out safely. Deep down he knew that the odds were high that he had just set her up for a bad one. The darker side of him said that, that was good maybe she'd decided to quit once and for all. The darkest side of him hoped that it wouldn't be enough.

He could still go back.

He should.

Instead he stomped down the hall, dwelling on how little he meant to the princess after all. He had been a means to an end and now that she had other people, she didn't need him. Even when he didn't lose people, he lost them. He paused to swiftly kick the wall, jumping up and clutching is toe with a howl of pain. Awful idea, that was.

"You okay?" Zuko asked.

Sokka rubbed the back of his head and forced a smile. "Yeah, just stubbed my toe."

"You seem…off, Sokka." He noted.

"Really, I'm okay. I'm just a bit stressed."

"Azula?"

"Yeah." He lied. He would let everyone think that she was most of the problem. It was easier. It was believable.

"She's a handful, trust me, I know." Zuko laughed. "You can always send her by one of us if she starts to bother you too much."

Sokka cringed. The last thing he wanted to do was hand off his only means of feeling reliable. "She sees you guys plenty."

Zuko nodded. "Yeah, thanks to you. You got her to let down a few walls." He smiled. "I think you're very good for her. She needs influence like yours, ya know?"

Sokka gave the most ingenuine laugh he'd ever heard. "Yeah." At the same time as Zuko helped him feel reassured, he highlighted the more alarming of his thoughts. The selfishness of wanting regretting that he'd helped her build a bigger support system. She was right, he did have a problem. He just didn't know what it was.

.oOo.

Azula had one more rational though before succumbing. One that she knew she would both regret terribly and thank herself for at the same time.

She took the pouch back out of her dresser. Biting her cheek with force enough to coax and explosion of copper in her mouth, she set the tears aflame. She shook as she watched blue consume it until it was nothing more than a heap of ash in her palm.

She had successfully took the option of failure from herself.

In the same way that it made her feel bold and assured…worthwhile, it made her want to weep and sapped the courage right out of her.

Things weren't so bad at first. For some time she sat on the balcony and watched constellations glitter over an afternoon sky that shifted in flashes of tie-dye multi-color. She swayed from side to side because the motion soothed her in some way or another. It also helped her marvel at the ever-shifting skies from multiple perspectives. She decided to look down to where the palace gardens. Each blade of grass was a new fragment in a kaleidoscope of that changed with each gust of wind. She followed the patters to a pond made of pure crystal.

She would go to it. She wanted to see if the goldfish were actually gold.

As quietly as she could, she crept out of her room. With any luck, none of the palace staff would try to talk to her. She wasn't too worried, they hadn't tried in the last few weeks, always waiting for her to address them first.

She was stopped only once by a servant who had been working for her for ages—the name was lost in a tangle of sensory bombardments. The woman stated that she liked her haircut. Azula was pleased with the compliment but didn't trust herself enough to speak, so she nodded and moved on, pleasantly surprised with her ability to use at least a hint of logic.

Azula flopped down on her stomach and dipped her fingers in the water. She let them dangle, dipping them further in when she found a goldfish. If she could only touch it, then she'd know if it was really gold.

Her serenity and curiosity came to a rude end as an entirely different sensation erupted over her hand. She had let it linger in the water for too long, her hand was beginning to crystalize. With a soft yelp, that went unnoticed, she yanked it out of the water. But the blight still spread, trailing down her arm. A bead of nervous sweat trickled down her forehead, she had to stop it, she couldn't let it fan out any further. She wandered away from the palace. She had been there a thousand times and yet she didn't know where she was anymore. Shakily and aimlessly she shuffled down the capital street. By now the crystal was at her elbow, it was spreading too fast. She passed by many people who looked completely unconcerned about her condition.

Many of the people she rushed passed she had never encountered in her life. But Agni, they seemed so inexplicably familiar. The woman with the freckles and the mole on the corner of her mouth, Azula felt like she knew her but at the same time registered that she couldn't possibly.

By the time she reached coronation temple she felt completely helpless, with the ruby now at her shoulder. She sought out the nearest pillar, leaned against it, and slid to the floor with her head in her hands. She could feel the roughness of the ruby against her ear.

"Princess?"

She didn't recognize him. She thought that she should have, but she didn't.

"Help me?" It was somewhere between a command and a question making her sound as confused as she was. She held out her ailed hand. The man must have thought she wanted help up, for he took her wrist and pulled until she was on her feet. "No, no, that's no what I meant. It's spreading."

The man sighed. "You wandered pretty far from the palace, haven't you?" She couldn't tell if he was annoyed or alarmed. He reminded her faintly of Ozai so she walked silently and wearily behind him. What if he was Ozai? But then, she'd have recognized him.

He was true to his word, and she was back in the palace. There she could spy some faces she did know. She hustled past Sokka, he was mad at her, he wouldn't help. But Zuko was there. Zuko was there and looked at her with such relief.

With the wide eyes of a child she tugged at Zuko's sleeve. "Zu-Zu? Zu-Zu, you have to make it stop. I can't get it to stop." Pulling him closer and shaking him once or twice she shoved her arm in his face. "Make it stop."

For a moment he still didn't pay her any attention. "Thanks for finding her, Xanu."

"That girl causes me a lot of trouble. More trouble than she's worth." Still she couldn't figure out how he felt about her. "She's going to hurt someone. If not, herself. You really should consider putting her back in the…you know."

Taking her into his arms, Zuko replied. "We can take care of her just fine."

"We have different definitions of fine, Fire Lord." Xanu noted.

"I'll keep a better eye on her." Zuko promised. "I thought that Sokka was."

"You better. I might not happen upon her next time."

The princess continued to eye Zuko with a sense of antsy urgency. Once again she practically rammed her arm into his face, "make it stop." She didn't know how he couldn't see it—the rubies had taken over parts of her neck and chest.

"It's going to kill me, I'm going to die." She whispered to herself.

"Here, let me see it." Katara offered.

She extended her arm for the waterbender who pretended to inspect it. With more care than perhaps, Azula deserved, Katara muttered, "ah yes, I think I see the problem." Azula nodded, happy to know that someone else could spy the conundrum.

"It's nothing that a little waterbending can't fix." She gave a soft smile.

"Okay." Azula agreed, suddenly water was her favorite thing. Her own next plan was to burn the rubies off. To the utter amazement of everyone else, she snuggled up against Katara.

.oOo.

Again Sokka found himself at odds with himself. Only a week or two ago he had longed for Azula to show them her soft side and now that she was he felt nothing but envy. And he had now one but himself to blame. He pushed her away…again, and she found someone else to rely on.

"That's kind of adorable." Aang snickered as Toph whispered, "sweet, sweet blackmail."

Sokka peered at his sister and the firebender in her arms, "I can help too?"

Azula eyed him with what could only be suspicion.

"Please let me help." He requested.

"Do you want to take her to her room and make sure she stays there?" Zuko asked.

Sokka nodded very quickly.

"Sokka's going to take you back to your room." Katara walked Azula over to him.

"No, Sokka doesn't like me." She insisted.

"That's not true!" He shouted, causing her to flinch back.

"Not so loud." Zuko hissed.

"Sorry." Sokka muttered. He was so frustrated, he just wanted to help like before. He tried to take her hand but she snatched it away.

"Maybe you should leave it to Katara and Zuko this time." Aang suggested.

"Yeah, you pissed her off or something." Toph added. "You're really good at bothering people." Realizing that she actually struck a nerve she muttered an apology and a, "you're pretty okay most of the time."

"I just want to help." He sighed.

"You already have, you've helped her a lot." Aang pointed out. "You were the first person to help her. She's just having a bad reaction, talk to her when she's…herself again."

Sokka ran a hand through his hair, this time she was right there and he still couldn't comfort her or do anything but watch her fall. "Fine, I'll be in my room."

That night he finished the painting.

.oOo.

Azula lie on her bed, mostly running her hand over her arm savoring the feeling of soft but dry flesh. For all of the flaws her skin acquired she was happy to have it instead of the rubies. She may have let herself grow too relaxed for she could feel herself ebbing away from her body. Zuko rubbed vertically over her back but the sensation was growing faint as her body grew more foreign. She could see things from a birdseye view; Katara next to her possibly talking to her, but equally as likely talking to Zuko. She could see herself, but her mind didn't know quite what to picture so she just saw a woman familiar yet strange. A famished, sickly looking thing that resembled her but only just so.

Her cheeks feeling wetter.

A hand came to dry them.

When she slammed back into her body, she crashed hard.

Not at first, but something like an hour later. The first thing she found when in her physical form was the distinct feeling of an extra arm protruding from the one that was formerly gemstone. She had no control over this arm and it poked and nudged her incessantly.

Zuko noted her discomfort first. "Are you in pain?"

She shook her head and rolled onto her side, crushed under her bodyweight, the extra arm dissipated. Azula sat up again, she was restless, she needed to move. Katara tried to hold her down. She had a feeling she wouldn't make it through the door this time so she took to pacing. Pacing and pacing and pacing and then pacing some more until her attention found something else.

As it usually did, the mirror provided her with a view she was ill-acquainted with. This time she could barely say that the woman she saw was Azula. This woman had a slight, otherworldly shimmer to her skin. And her hair. Her hair was the color of wheat; she'd never seen hair that color before. She combed her fingers through it, sometimes it looked golder other times it was a sandier shade. Her eyes were different too, darker, sometimes flashing blue. Who was she?

She was Azula.

But she was someone entirely different?

Azula didn't quiet make it to the bed, before slumping over with the distinct feeling that one of her hands was slightly smaller than it should be. It looked right but felt weirdly disproportionate. Her head lolled. Zuko lifted her into her bed, something she attributed to being able to hover.

Too much.

She had taken too much.

But of what?


	24. Chapter 24

Azula was still dazed well into the afternoon after. Zuko remained at her bedside, keeping a quiet eye on her physical state. She was so tired and about to become more so.

She made Sokka a promise.

She made herself a promise.

She didn't know which she should value more. It didn't really matter though when she remembered that she left herself with no option to back down. The regret she had anticipated upon doing so, hit her in full. She tugged the covers over her head and groaned to herself. "Water?" Zuko offered. She reached an arm out from under the covers and waited for him to set the cup into her grasp. With the blankets still draped over her head, she sat up and downed the whole glass. Having swallowed it too fast she coughed. "Take it easy." Zuko took the cup back.

"Don't tell me what to do." She grumbled, flopping back onto the bed.

"I miss cuddly Azula already." Katara remarked.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She asked

"Don't worry about it." Zuko replied. Such words only escalated her concern.

"What did I do last night?" She asked.

"Well for starts, you wandered out of the place again."

"Wonderful." She muttered, her voice brimming with sarcasm. "Just perfect. Where was Sokka?" She wracked her brain, knowing that he was with her as she took the tears. "Oh right, he was nagging me about taking the tears…" she trailed off.

"And then?" Katara asked. Azula could see it in her eyes that this was an answer she'd been waiting to hear, probably since the night before.

"I asked him what his problem was, he reminded me that I'm the one with the problem, delivered the worst sassy punchline I've ever heard, and left."

"He's been in a pretty bad mood lately." Katara noted.

Zuko was more concerned with other matters. "What was the punchline?"

"Something about being packed and having a nice trip. It was ridiculous." To herself she had to admit that it had amused her slightly. "But yes, I would agree he's been unbearably uptight." Not that she was any better. At least not that morning. She didn't feel up to conversation and was surprised she had made it so far into one. Only a few hours without her fix and she was already feeling dreadful. She danced between flashes of hot and cold and sometimes both at once. All of which were unpleasant in their own way. "Tell him to come in here."

"He might like it better if you were the one asking." Katara suggested.

Azula, deciding that a demonstration of just why that wouldn't work would be more persuasive, got out of bed. It registered a hair too late that she ought to let go of the bedsheets. Pulled back by the weight of the mattress they were tucked under she tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs and blankets. A very successful demonstration she had to say. Painful, yes. Humiliating, even more so. But effective all the same. Grumbling to herself she unraveled her body from the sheets and clawed her way back onto the bed.

"Alright, I'll go get him." Katara replied as she conjured up a few chunks of ice. She wrapped them in a towel and handed it to Zuko.

Upon the waterbender's exit, Zuko took his sister's arm and held the ice to her elbow which was throbbing to compete with her head. It was probably the closest they'd come yet to doing something normal siblings would.

.oOo.

Sokka eyed the painting. Now that it was done, the lighting touched up and a few new shades added to her skin and robes, he thought of destroying it. Slashing it up came to mind but that seemed to permanent. He also thought of painting over it. That's what he would do, he would add some truth to the painting, show her for who she really was…

A light tapping on his door pulled him away from destroying his hard work. Quickly he hid the painting again. He greeted his visitor.

"Azula asked me to tell you she wanted you."

"Oh, now she wants me?" Sokka asked.

"Yes, she does." Katara replied. "Like Aang said, she was just having a bad trip. She wasn't mad at you."

"Then why isn't she here?" He asked.

"She uhh. Let's just say she tried." Katara smiled.

Seeing the princess again stole the resentment out of him. From the looks of it she had dozed off. She lie on her side with her arms splayed out in front of her and a tangle of hair obscuring her eyes and upturned cheek. He found out she wasn't quite as asleep as he had assumed upon accidently sitting on her foot. With the other she offered him a decent kick to the rear. "You have all of this bed space, you don't have to sit on me."

"Sorry." He winced.

She waved it off and readjusted the position of her head on the pillow.

"Want some alone time?" Zuko asked.

"Please." Sokka gave a weak smile.

Zuko nodded and motioned for Katara to join him.

"Sorry." Sokka said again.

"You sat on my foot, people have done me worse."

"About last night." He elaborated. "Or, uh, last morning. I was…I've been angry lately."

"Yes, obviously. I thought that, that was my role." She kept her eyes closed, he had a feeling she would for the duration of the conversation.

His mood began to lift, if only a little. She didn't seem furious at all. Even so he had to know, "I didn't make you feel bad, did I?"

"You didn't make me feel anything I didn't already." She sighed. "Some would argue that I don't feel at all anyways, so I guess it doesn't really matter now does it?"

"It does to me." He replied. "Because you do have feelings."

"Yes, how do I get rid of them? I don't want them."

He wished that he had the answer, if he did, his own would have been gone long ago. Maybe if he didn't have feelings, he wouldn't keep hurting the people he loved or causing them to hurt themselves. Lost in thought it took him a moment to realize that she was crying softly to herself. His heart plummeted, "I was that awful, huh?"

"I got rid of them, Sokka."

"Got rid of who?"

She kicked him again, "the tears, you idiot!"

Sokka smiled, "so why are you upset, that's a good thing?" It seemed that she was doing better, and on her own too. He wanted to be wholly proud but instead he got a twinge of fear. Of hurt; she really didn't need him anymore.

"No." She whispered. "No, now everything will just keep hurting."

Shoveling his inner fears away, he agreed, "maybe for a little while." He paused, trying to come up with something else to say. "But once the pain goes away, you'll be better off, won't you?"

Azula pulled the blankets up to her neck. "I don't know what I'll be."

.oOo.

More than the process itself, Azula feared what she would become. The tears were practically a part of her these days. Without them, when all was said and done, who would she be? What would she have? Her resentment, her power, her ambition…she had grown to lack most of herself. With the tears gone, she wondered if there would be anything left of her at all. She didn't want to change, she didn't want to be different. Especially when assessing what change had made her into presently. Yet she had found a painful and uncomfortable comfort zone in the tears and in her anger. And she was losing them both.

She was losing herself again.

"Why are you angry?" She asked, wanting to take her thoughts away from herself. Sokka locked his lips together. "It's my fault isn't it?" She pressed, somehow, she found a sort of masochistic pleasure in blaming herself. It has become a habit as of late. "You were fine before you started bothering with me."

"I already told you, I was having trouble before that. That's why I was excited when I found inspiration painting…something new."

He may have mentioned something like that, but the reason he spoke seemed so long ago. She was probably high or drunk—or both when he had told her. Something about Suki, was it? It must have been, she thought. She brushed her fingers through her hair wincing when they snagged in a knot and at the pinch when she pulled them through, plucking a few strands of hair in the process. Something about Suki…but what? She tried to think it over, maybe he hadn't elaborated at all. Her eyes were feeling heavy again. "You will tell me eventually." She murmured. It relieved her to know that she wasn't the source of his problems. It made her feel that much less burdensome. She latched onto it, trying to snatch at the confidence she was feeling a few days prior. The confidence that her fearful anticipation was taking away again.

"Do you care about my problems?" Sokka asked.

Azula thought for a moment. "I might," she replied knowing very well that she did. He had put in so much effort to care for her, she couldn't find it in herself to not return the favor. However hard she tried not to. She didn't want to care, she wanted to go back hating Sokka. She was going soft. She wanted to go back to hating everyone, it was easier that way; less confusing. It made her less vulnerable. She supposed that, in her current condition, she was going to be vulnerable no matter what she did. She tapped her nails upon the mattress, she had too much to think about and wanted to dwell on none of it. She was asleep before she could even try.

Her dream was vivid but in waking she would never recall it. Not even whether it was pleasant or horrific.

Such was the first twenty-four hours.

A deceitfully serene, almost asymptomatic, twenty-four hours.

The first Twenty-four hours of what would be the longest three months Azula had ever spent. Three months…

Two thousand, one hundred and ninety hours. And perhaps then some.


	25. Chapter 25

The weeks to follow went in and out in routine. The princess had grown very quiet, much more so than usual and slept through most of the days. Often times she would mutter a few words to him before rolling over again. Her sleep was most always punctuated by delusions and plagued by imaginary monsters that she would cry out about in moments when she was half-awake. So, on most days, Sokka would eventually slip away. He had much on his own mind and Azula's constant slumber offered him too much time and quiet to dwell on such matters. But all the same he could never stay away for too long, lest she wake up in one of her fits.

So he began a new painting, this one of a woman sleeping wrapped in elegant sheets. He knew he ought to not paint her again, but he couldn't help it. He thought of painting the shattered vase, but he had a feeling he'd earn an earful for it. On the other hand she'd probably smack him into the next week if she caught him painting her in anything less than a pristine state. He thought she was beautiful, in some sense or another, more so than she'd been in a while. What he found beauty in, he concluded, was her strength—the depiction of her paving the way to a recovery process. Odds were, he wouldn't have the painting finished until after she had detoxed completely. He put his brush down and eyed the woman in the bed.

.oOo.

The first three weeks had been hell for Azula in many ways.

Day three was when she felt the full effects of leaving her Ruby Tears behind. She was more lethargic than she'd ever been. Even in her most depressive moments she had more energy than she had on day three. She pulled herself up, with a great effort. "Sokka?"

The man looked up from a pack he was unloading, "you're finally awake." From the looks of it, he had just gotten back from wherever he was gone.

"Yes." She replied, not certain of how long she would remain so.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Hungry." She replied, unaccustomed to the feeling. The tears and cactus juice had always kept her full enough. Without them she was feeling famished and sick.

"What do you want?"

"Food." She snapped. She hadn't meant to demand so sharply.

He pinched the bridge of his nose but Azula could spy the trace of a smile. "Yes, but what kind?" It did her well to know that he was learning to ignore her outbursts.

"I don't care, I just want something to eat." She answered. She wouldn't be surprised to doze off again before her meal arrived. She stared down at shaking, clammy hands. Sleep sounded very good about then, it took away the feverish feelings. She couldn't feel the tremors nor the shakes in her sleep.

"Do you want to come and get it with me, Aang has been asking about you."

"He has?" She asked.

"Yeah, he says he's been a little worried since uh…your little adventure a few days ago." Sokka replied.

Azula considered joining him but couldn't muster up the physical energy to go with her slight burst of enthusiasm. This sent her mood plummeting even lower. She shook her head no, "too tired." She rubbed her eyes, hoping that doing so would shed some grogginess. "You can bring him up with the food." She replied as she burrowed back under the covers.

She hadn't quite fallen asleep but was on the verge of it when Sokka returned with Aang in tow. She picked at her meal as the Avatar talked about his day and what Zu-Zu has been up to. It was mostly mundane chatter to listen to as she ate. But she welcomed the babble, it gave her something else to focus on. Something that wasn't the achiness of her body. She didn't have any stories of her own to offer, not much happened to her in the confines of her bedroom. Every now and again she would look up from her plate and offer a comment or two on his story or his storytelling ability. Aang didn't have a way with words the way Sokka did. Near the end of Aang's tale she shoved her plate aside and lie back down, not quite satisfied but she would deal with it.

"You seem like you're doing better." Aang remarked.

"Not particularly." She sighed. For some time, she listened to he and Sokka converse. From the sound of it, Sokka was in a better mood. But then, apparently that's what she sounded like. Briefly, before shutting her eyes again, she contemplated how troubled he might actually be.

.oOo.

Five days in, Sokka was starting to get a sense of things. Azula was asleep often, for most of the day really, but when she was awake, she was awake. Not so much in that she had heaps of energy but in that she was on such high alert. For what reason, he couldn't place. No, she hadn't much energy at all. In fact, she seemed almost dismal in some impalpable way.

"What's wrong?" He finally asked. He didn't know why he asked, he already had a pretty solid guess.

"Nothing, I don't know." Lately all of her responses have been vague and unclear. She stood up for the first time in two days, stretching her arms out. He wasn't sure that doing so really did anything for her. He watched her walk about the room with no real purpose other than to, perhaps, go through the motions of walking however sluggish the strides might be. He almost feared that she would topple, but she sat down before he could put too much thought into it.

As she usually did upon waking, she had requested something to eat. Lately she'd been doing so more and more. He supposed it made sense though, being as the Ruby Tears had eliminated her appetite before. Though he thought that she ought to venture out of her room so he replied, "I'll get you something if you come downstairs with me."

He almost gave in, the look of defeat in her eyes was so powerful. She already seemed resigned to that she might not get anything to eat after all. Sokka decided that, one way or another, she was going to get a change of scenery. She was going to talk to people besides himself. He paused, wondering if he really wanted that—as things were, he had her to himself again. She was relying on him. The thought unsettled him, he had to get rid of those thoughts. As if to prove something to himself, he scooped her into his arms, deciding that he'd just have to carry her if she wouldn't walk herself. He didn't expect her to get so angry. As soon as she was in his arms something vicious flickered in her eyes. "Oh, I get it." She muttered.

"You get what?" Sokka sputtered, still clutching the enraged woman tightly. He considered turning around and carrying her back to her room, or at least pausing for a moment.

"You think I'm lazy don't you, that's why you're carrying me?" She accused.

"N-no! I'm carrying you because you didn't want to get up, remember." The explanation only seemed to kindle her temper more. So he tried again, "do you want me to put you down and let you walk?" He didn't wait for an answer before setting her down. She folded her arms over her chest, looking as though she wanted to be carried again. It would seem that she didn't want the conflict to be so obvious and walked the rest of the way to the dining room. He often had to stop and wait for her to catch up with him, she seemed to linger further behind every time he looked back.

Sokka wanted to say it was a mistake to force her out of her room. Though after she had been at the table for a while, fed and having conversed with the gang, she seemed to be in better spirits if only a little. It did him good to know that his friends were getting used to her, even if she only emerged every once in a while. He no longer felt guilty or like he was being judged for associating with the princess. He saw her reach for one final handful of cherries and nibble on them as she told Katara of a dream she had some nights before. One that consisted of bathing in fire, but without the burns and anguish. She described it in such brilliant detail, he almost envied how vivid her dreams must be.

"Hey, dunderhead, pay attention to me!" Toph hollered and tossed a cherry at him. It bounced off of his head and rolled towards Azula. He watched her pick it up, inspect it, conclude that it was safe, and pop it into her mouth. "That's not paying attention!"

"It is too." Sokka rolled his eyes.

"That's not paying attention to me." Toph clarified.

He endured Toph's crass sense of humor and friendly abuse for as long as Azula wished to be with the gang. He figured that some ill-placed jokes from Toph were well worth letting the firebender get comfortable with his friends. It would make things easier for the both of them in the long run.

Azula engaged in conversation longer than he thought she would, but he could see her starting to put a noteworthy effort into keeping her eyes open. So he decided that it was time to get her back in bed before she spent all of the energy that she didn't actually have. It took considerable coaxing to get her on her feet again. He could see her growing sleepier still, right before his eyes. She flexed her fingers for a moment, letting fire burst in her palm just to feel the heat. Or so he thought. In the days to follow he would come to find out that the action helped soothe her. More so, it lulled her to sleep.

.oOo.

The week closed with her mood dipping further. It caught her off guard. She tried with everything she had to convince Sokka…to convince herself that she was just tired. But it wasn't so, Azula knew it very well, she recognized the feeling. The horrible numbness. The melancholy that exhausted her more than she was already.

She rubbed her hands over her face and through tangles of hair. Hair that fell to her shoulders and messy tangles. A week or so ago she might have been thrilled to run a comb through it, especially since it seemed to feel a little silkier again. And yet she couldn't seem to muster up the elation she should have felt. She swore she was over it. She swore that she was beginning to feel secure again.

So why?

Why did she feel so dreadful again? She was reaching a lower sort of low.

Azula wrapped her arms around herself, she was alone again. She wondered when Sokka had left, he wasn't there when she woke up the first time, when the sun was just above the horizon. She thought that he might have gone for breakfast and that she'd wake up to a pancake and a moon peach or two like usual. But she woke up a second time, hours later and he still wasn't there. She told herself that he stopped by and that she simply missed him. But it happened a third and fourth time and she decided that he must be appalled by her for some reason or another. She was well beyond being able to deduce why. So she dropped back to the mattress and bit her cheek in a feeble attempt to not cry.

She just didn't understand why she was feeling so awful and that in itself conjured more tears. If she hadn't completely drained herself crying…

If she had stayed awake a few minutes longer, she might have heard Sokka enter the room and sling his bag to the ground with an exasperated sigh. She would have seen it in his posture that it had been a long day and that he was glad to be back in her room.

.oOo.

The middle of the week was no better. In fact, her head throbbed with all the intensity of a hangover but without the euphoric pleasure of drinking. Azula clenched her teeth, caught up in another crippling wave of nausea. The same stomach reeling sensation that was always accompanied by a sheen of cold sweat. She was feeling much iller than ever and everything, even the simplest of things were somehow so patronizing to her. Such things like Sokka offering her a cool, wet, rag. She snapped at him to get it away, the drips on her forehead aggravated her. Her own voice annoyed her, as the volume of it sent her head pounding harder.

Sokka withdrew the rag and softly spoke, "I was going to take a bath, did you want to get one first." When he offered her a bite of his sticky bun, she realized that it was already midafternoon. For some reason, Sokka only ate sticky buns in the afternoon. It peeked her curiosity but she kept forgetting to ask.

Snatching the treat with a grumpy pout she grumbled, "what are you trying to tell me?"

Sokka scrunched his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Is it that obvious that I need one?" She knew she had backed him into a corner.

She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He was trying to find a way to put things lightly. She didn't need him to remind her, she knew all too well that she was letting herself slip again. That she was beginning to neglect herself once more. At first it was simply because she had been too tired—at that point she felt awful for it and wanted Sokka to carry her to the bathroom, but she didn't have it in her to ask. Now, she simply didn't care…didn't feel like it.

"It's just that you haven't taken one in a while…"

"What gave it away?" Azula hissed, daring him to give her the answer.

Sokka rubbed his head. "Well, I've been with you for just under two weeks and I may have forgotten to take one too." She had to admire his clever diplomacy.

"At least get dressed." He entered her close before she could protest and pulled out her dragon tunic. "I always thought that this one looked nice on you. But this one would look good too." He held up a simple robe of deep blue. Embroidered into the silk were vivid teal streaks of lightning and equally vibrant bursts of blue flame.

She saw around it, this was his sugar-coated way of nagging her. Of telling her to stop being so lazy and start upkeeping herself. Azula wouldn't have it she was ready to go off on him, but all the same she just didn't have the motivation. Instead she folded her arms and muttered, "how about you get dressed."

Sokka smiled weakly. "That was the plan." And then, "I will if you will." He dropped the silks into her lap and headed for the door. "I really think that you should come with me, I'll…"

He really was out to get her today. She was fed up with it, he'd only given her two demands but she was already fed up with it. He would probably insist that she go downstairs next and then the rest of the group could have a go at her. But she wouldn't let him get her there. She was staying right where she was, wearing just what she was. Eventually he conceded and with a slight frown, Sokka stepped out—presumably to take his bath.

Alone with her thoughts again, Azula was left to dwell on it. The more she thought about it, the less antagonizing he seemed until she concluded that he meant no harm at all. Once again she had to ask herself what was wrong with her. Faintly she wished she had the Ruby Tears to calm her nerves.

She pushed the notion away as quickly as she could. As she lie there on her side her mind wandered. Wandered so far in fact that she began thinking of things she hadn't in a while; Chan's hand on her cheek, Borem's snide smiles, Yoona's offensive butchering of all things grammatical—but it was always so bright and cheerful, Wire's ridiculous clumsiness, and even Mama Mozi and her stupid fucking dead grass. She tried so very hard to not think of Minho. Of anything about him. But once that floodgate was open, it was overflowing. His smile, his sense of adventure, his wide brown eyes, his dirty black hair—the way it fell to his ears in the back but in the front cascaded past his chest. He had kept that portion in messy dreads. And that nickname, the way it always rolled off of his tongue.

She realized that she might have loved him.

And she was in tears again.

.oOo.

Sokka re-entered the room with his hair dripping and a towel slung over his chiseled shoulders. Azula didn't seem to notice his entry. He quietly took his seat and watched her weep into her pillow. He raked his fingers through his hairline, he really needed to be more careful with her. Her mind was in such a delicate state. He hadn't meant for it but it seemed like he had successfully made her cry again. He thought of rubbing her back, Zuko noted that doing so always worked for him and that it always had since she was a little girl. He also thought of running his fingers through her hair, not only had that comforted her the last time, but he kind of wanted to toy with her longer locks. He thought better of it though, if this was anything like the last time he offended her, it was better to keep his distance.

From afar he observed the princess. In some regards she looked better; Though her skin was still patchy and dry, she wasn't so pale and her hair was more lustrous. She looked terribly worn-out but her face wasn't so hollow anymore. In only a few week's time she had changed so much.

And he was still the same old Sokka…

He heard the bed creak. Azula was sitting up and silently beckoning him over. She brushed away a few tears with the back of her sleeve. Sokka didn't know what to expect when he went over to her. Part of him thought that she might smack him a good one for hurting her feelings again. Instead she pulled him into a hug and buried her face in his chest. She was no longer crying but she was breathing heavily, the last hiccupped visages of having done so. He didn't do anything in response, he didn't know if she wanted him to. Finally. after some time he chanced patting her softly on the back.

"It'll be okay." He whispered, the words he wanted to hear. "You're going to be okay."


	26. Chapter 26

Azula finally mustered up the vigor to leave her bed. Her hair fell haphazardly about her face and she could just barely bring herself to care enough to move it. She thought of the Nyūkirā in spurts and pondered upon how things would have been if she stayed with them. Such thinking only seemed to agitate her already touchy mood. She was slipping back into the depressive state she had worked so hard to shed and she couldn't seem to break the fall. She leaned against her dresser, in doing so she reminded Sokka to begin his daily pestering. Just when she'd thought she'd grown to ignore it, he'd come up with a new tactic. That day's approach seemed to be bribery. Without saying a word, he handed her a platter of pastries and exotic fruits complete with a fluff of citrine colored fire-lily and soft golden dandelions. She assumed he had just picked them himself. "I thought you'd like to share breakfast with me."

"Oh, I'm sharing it?" She quirked an eyebrow.

He sighed, "I mean you don't have to if you don't want to, but I was hoping…"

She let him pick the first thing as she contemplated what she'd like to eat first. "So, what are you going to hassle me about this time?"

"Hassle you?" He asked innocently. "I'm simply going to say that this tunic would look lovely on you."

She respected his persistency, and the flattery was helping his case very much. But she still didn't feel like getting changed. So instead she plucked a grape from the platter and flicked it at him. "Nice try." She commented. His face when the grape nailed him in the eye might have made her laugh some time ago, it was a good attempt on her part. But a failed one. She rested her cheek in her palm and stared blankly at the wall. Every now and again she would absently pick something from the plate until there was nothing left to take. Sokka eyed her with just about as much intensity as Azula stared at the wall. She buried her face in her hands, tired of it. Tired of what? She was just tired in general, she decided. But again it seemed as if she had run out of tears to shed. She was glad for that at least. She welcomed the sense of numbness that was setting in, the sort of lack of care that came with having no further to fall.

This time Sokka wasn't going to back down. "You're going to start taking care of yourself again." The look in his eyes told her that he was going to leave her with no option. One way or another it was going to happen. "We've already been through this." He motioned about a room that was growing mildly messy again and at her increasingly disheveled appearance. Between the withdrawal pains and tiredness and her dreary state of mind upkeep was becoming a low priority again. It was a complete mirror of the woman she had become months back. Maybe she had never fled from that person at all. And with such a revelation she could feel her self-esteem dipping again. She should show Sokka out, how many times would he see her in such a haphazard state and still feel as though she were worth standing by? How many times before he became embarrassed by her? He was still prattling on and on in the background, her attention was wholly divided until she caught, "I thought we were passed this, you were doing so well." So how could she tell him that she was feeling worse than she had when he first came to visit her. How could she tell him so when she didn't even think that it was possible to feel worse than she had then—more so when things seemed to be going better for her. She didn't understand, not at all. For the first time, she considered that maybe her sullen mood was another part of the crash. It made her feel a tinge better to think that she might not be completely at fault for her poor mood. "Alright fine, we'll do this the hard way." Sokka perked her attention again. Before she could assess what might have been said before it, he lifted her from her chair and snatched up the tunic he was so adamant about.

.oOo.

Azula sat at the edge of the spring, rigid and unmoving. He may have delivered her to the bath… he may have prepared it just to her liking…

But he couldn't make her get in.

On the contrary, she pulled her dirty silks closer to her body in some petty act of defiance. Sokka was patient though, he sat in the water waiting for the soft odor of lavender and resiny scent of pine to beckon her in. By comparison the robes she wore smelled awful, she eyed the bath longingly but didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cave. She didn't have much of it left, so she would cling to the last scraps of her pride like her life depended on it.

And maybe it did.

It would seem that Sokka was a man of tough love. At last, having grown impatient, he picked her up and dropped her in the water. The princess let out a sharp and surprised holler which seemed to amuse the Water Tribesman. With a scowl she threw her drenched robes off before they got the chance to cling uncomfortably to her skin. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the man who was reveling in his small conquest.

Engrossed in his one-man victory party, Sokka was no longer paying attention to her. She decided that it was a good thing too because she was feeling self-conscious and out of sorts again. She was quite literally exposed and she hated being so. The nakedness left her so much room to nitpick herself—it was the very reason she dreaded taking a bath in the first place. Every single time, without fail, she always seemed to assess and judge every aspect of herself. With her reflection clear in the water, it wasn't hard to do.

Her hair was usually the first thing she noticed and for once she wasn't entirely horrified by the state of it. It has seen better days but she decided that the length of it was well enough. At worst her haircut resembled Zuko's a bit too much for her liking—only an inch or so longer. Tossed by the spring water and its heat, her locks had a slight curl to them, she didn't know how well she liked that.

For as much sleep as she was doing, her eyes still looked dull and sleepy. Faint bags seemed to mock her—what was the point of sleeping so much if she still looked like she'd been awake for weeks on end?

Snarling to herself, Azula tried turning her attention to something else. She spied a bar of soap, if she was in the bath she may as well make the most of it. She let her fingers glide over a few different bars, trying to decide which scent she desired. Drumming her nails over the different soaps, she was reminded of how overdue her manicure was; her nails were long but not elegantly so and the majority of them were chipped or broken. They were all uneven. She snatched a soap at random, telling herself that it would be an easy fix. All she had to do was fetch herself a nail filer. The thought was comforting, despite knowing that she wouldn't.

For a brief period, she was alright as she carefully ran the bar of soap over her arms and legs. A tingle of cinnamon wafted up from the bar. She liked cinnamon, it would seem that even on auto-pilot, she could still find her favorite scents. She scrubbed at her chest and neck for longer than she needed to, just so she could let the aroma linger about her for a few extra moments. It was a fresh and welcomed change in comparison to the musky smell of staying in one place for too long. Every so often she would catch Sokka stealing a peek at her.

On one completely unflattering, libido killing moment she looked up to see him scrubbing his pits. When he met her eye, he slowed his scrubbing and wriggled his eyebrows. And then he winked at her as if he was doing the sexiest thing in the world. She turned away, slapping her hand to her forehead. She had enough embarrassment of her own, she didn't need to live vicariously through his. He must be what everyone was referring to when talking about how some men were closer to their primitive, barbaric natures than others.

He, Azula decided, was a complete and utter idiot on all accounts. She wondered how she let herself get attached to him. Lost in that thought she found herself stroking her arms with the soap again. She shook her head as if that would help her regain focus and ran the soap over the parts of her back that she could reach.

Azula's attention was piqued again when she brought the soap over her sides and belly. Her torso was still rather pale. Regardless, the princess wasn't too concerned at this; her arms, legs, and face had received more sun exposure than the rest of her. That's how it always had been, even before she'd gotten into cactus juice and Ruby Tears. No, that didn't bother her any. She continued scrubbing in inattentive, almost numb circles. At first, Azula had felt good about finally having her appetite back. She felt less frail and breakable. But running the soap up down her belly, she was beginning to feel as if she had been over doing it. Coupled with her lengthy bouts of inactivity, she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Her former lack of appetite was catching up to her and then some. In some way or another, she seemed to be constantly swinging from one extreme to the next.

Mercifully, Sokka pulled her away from her newfound insecurities. "What is with you and soap?" He asked. "And what do you have against shampoo." She had half the mind to chuck the bar at him—if only to take his gaze from her—instead she set it in its rightful place with an exaggerated flare.

"If you like shampoo so much then you can come over here and wash my hair for me." Truthfully, she just wanted him in closer proximity. She vaguely recalled being soothed the last time he shampooed her hair and she could use mollification.

He hesitated, "if that's what you want." As per usual, his touch was tender and needlessly careful. She allowed herself to relax a little. She wondered if it would be easier for him to wash her hair if she faced away from him, but he didn't ask her to so she continued to stare at his bare chest. After a certain point, the princess deduced that he was using too much shampoo. She could see more frothy white in her hair than black. "And you said I use too much soap."

"I have to make sure your hair is washed good." He countered, before dipping her head back and pouring water over her it. After a few more cascades he tilted her head forward again. "There!" Sokka exclaimed more to himself. Then to her he spoke, "nice and clean." He combed through her hair a few times.

"Don't make this weird." Azula grumbled, as if it wasn't already. Her voice was short of its usual punch.

"Too late." He rubbed the back of his head with one hand, the other fell between her shoulder blades. She could feel him tapping his fingers upon her back as he mulled over whether or not there was anything left to do while in the bath. He realized with an, "oh yeah" that he had forgotten to wash his own hair. His touch left her skin as he went to fetch the shampoo again. With nothing else to do it was her turn to stare. In her eyes he was a better sight than she.

His dark complexion complimented the hot shades of the spring walls. His hair and grown some as well and he had taken to stringing wooden beads through the longest of the strands. His face was getting a bit scruffy again but it was hardly her business how he wore his facial hair. He must have been aware, for he was shampooing his beard. The firebender always knew that he was sculpted but this was much more pronounced with droplets of water trickling over his biceps. No wonder he could carry her with such ease. The water traced the lines of his toned abs and Azula found her face flushed. If he asked, she would say it was the temperature of the springs. Her cheeks grew hotter still, she used to look something like that. Maybe not so obviously as him, but she used to have some degree of muscle definition. Just like that she felt gross all over again. Dejectedly, Azula wrapped her arms around her middle, dropped herself on one of the rocky seats within the spring, and let the water ripple and churn around her.

She felt dizzy, a sensation amplified by the heat of the water, her head dipped and she gripped the side of the spring. She slumped over, her face preciously so precociously close to the water that her bangs grazed the surface. She felt Sokka's arms curl under her shoulders. He lifted her from the water and set her down on the rocky deck of the spring. She lowered herself to the floor and waited for him to fetch her clothing. Her body convulsed once and then a second time. She was so tired of it. She slammed her fist against the floor twice, clenching her teeth as another tremor passed. She only stood when he offered her a clean towel. After rubbing it over her hair, she wrapped it tightly around herself. When she found herself sufficiently dry, Azula tossed the towel to the side and retrieved the dragon tunic and pants Sokka seemed to adore so well. Pulling the top over her head was one thing, a simple task—one that she probably should have completed the first time Sokka asked. Getting comfortable was another; it fit more snugly than she ever wanted to admit. How had she managed to stray so far from the perfection she craved? She tugged at the bottom of the tunic and gnawed on her lower lip. "What are you staring at?" She snapped, turning her furious golden gaze on Sokka.

"Nothing." He held his hands up.

He was a dreadful liar. He was judging her and she knew it. She used the last of her energy to shove past him and storm back into her room where she practically threw herself onto the bed and bunched herself up. Resentfully she noted that, doing just that was exactly the problem; she should have been working on her firebending or on her bendingless combat forms or anything useful really. But she was too exhausted. She was always tired and she was tired of feeling tired which inadvertently escalated the feeling.

Sokka only had his pants on when he entered her room. Apparently, it was too hard for him to put a shirt on under pressure. "Are you alright? Usually you feel better after you've taken a bath."

"Usually you don't force me to do it." She hissed, concluding in that moment, that it was all his fault for making her get up in the first place. She wouldn't have been able to judge herself so harshly if he hadn't presented her with such a golden opportunity.

He still refused to back down. "You needed it."

"Thanks." She spat.

"Anytime." He replied with just as much venom.

"I hate you." She hissed. "Very much."

"I'm just trying to help." The way he drew the third word out was telling enough that she was testing him. But she prodded some more.

"I don't need your help."

His arm gestures were almost comical. First, he swept them out in a rainbow of an arc and then he threw them in front of him. After that, he slapped both of his palms to his head. In one final dramatic display his lip twitched and he threw his shirt to the floor and stomped off like the neanderthal she used to think he was.

She rolled over and turned her back on the spot he'd just left. He was wearing her out. The arguing was taking its toll and she pondered upon if it was worth it. All getting him railed up did was sink her mood even deeper when he finally lashed out. But as many things were, it was a habit.

Maybe when she woke up she could pretend like it didn't happen.

That wasn't the case. Though Sokka was back in the room with her, he looked just about as pissed—maybe more so—as he did before she had fallen asleep. So she closed her eyes again and pretended like she hadn't woken up. With any luck she'd be asleep again. With any luck she wouldn't wake up. She looked at her wrists, running her fingers over the raised scars, dimly she wanted to open them up again. If she did she wouldn't have to worry about finishing her detox. She wouldn't have to worry about who she'd be afterwards. Azula wasn't ready to come off of the tears and she was even less prepared for self re-discovery of any sort. That kind of introspection had never been good for her. She shuddered, asking herself why she had burned her crutch. She dug her nails into her skin, leaving four small puncture marks. She full intended to drag them down when Sokka's hand closed over her wrist.

"Don't do that." He reprimanded roughly.

"Don't tell me what not to do." She replied in a horse whisper.

Sweeping his hand over his face for what seemed like the tenth time that day, he started over, this time speaking softer. "Look at this. You're hurting yourself." He pried her hand away from her wrist and propped her up against himself, with her cheek on his neck.

Apparently showing signs of physical distress was enough to get him to drop his frustration with her. He peered down at her with all the pity she hated being shown. One hand rested on her head and the other held her by the wrist. He stroked the field of scars with his thumb. "You have to stop doing that."

"Then find me some other way…"

"Some other way to what?"

"To distract me from." She pointed to her head, hoping that he would fill in the blanks. Her thoughts were overbearing and was desperate to distract herself from them.

"What did you do the first time?"

"Drugs." She replied matter-of-factly.

"Well what are you thinking about that's bothering you so much?" He asked.

"Right now? Or in general?" She would have a new problem by the next day.

"Let's focus on right now." He replied. "What upset you so much earlier?"

Azula rubbed her temples. She couldn't tell if the ache was from the stress or from the usual. It was probably the product of both. She didn't want to have this discussion. She didn't want to have it ever. "It's been three months. I'm still a mess and I look like hell!" She spoke at a volume she hadn't intended. "I—"

"That's not true." He interjected.

"Oh, it isn't?" Azula pouted. "Prove it."

His arm slipped down from around her. "Will you be okay if I leave you for just a moment?"

"Depends, how long is that moment going to be?" She questioned.

"I just have to go get something."

.oOo.

Sokka took a deep breath. He supposed then was as well a time as any. With one last look at the woman on the bed he got up. She was so tense, it was a wonder that she hadn't begged for a new pouch of Ruby Tears or for a bottle of cactus juice. He was halfway down the hall when he ran into the Fire Lord, before the man could even speak Sokka uttered a quick, "not now Zuko, I'm busy." He watched Zuko shrug. He pushed the door to his room open, it smelled like him and he missed it. He shuffled through his things until he found what he was looking for.

"What's that?" Katara asked, leaving him to wonder how many people he could run into in one quick trip down the hall.

"Art." He replied instinctively and then added, "don't worry about it."

He could hear Toph mutter, "oh so Sokka McSecretStockings will show her his painting but not us." Aang's snickers followed him the rest of the way down the hall.

He inhaled again, he wasn't sure how she was going to take this and he was afraid to find out. She was laying down again when he entered the room. Very still at that, with her injured arm out in front of her. An instinctive sort of fear took over. He took a careless step closer and collided with the bedframe. The princess jolted up. "What are you doing?" She drawled sleepily as she adjusted the position of her legs. "Don't you know how to walk?" Her left hand came to rest on her ankle.

"I forget when I'm nervous."

Azula scrunched her nose. "That's a terrible thing to forget." She looked down and plucked a strand of hair from her tunic. He gave her a quick onceover. He really did love how the outfit looked on her, it was his favorite by far. It somehow seemed to go with and highlight her haircut. A sharp haircut that accented her softer facial features; a delicate nose and subtle cheekbones—a trait she shared with her mother. He didn't think he ever studied her so closely, he could practically start a new portrait…a better one. Without her lipstick and eyeshadow, she looked almost adorable and innocent. Her whole ensemble struck his fancy in the most pleasant way. He couldn't fathom why she would think so lowly of herself.

He was already getting flustered and he hadn't even revealed the picture yet.

She tapped her fingers on her ankle. "Well? What did you have to go get?"

He swallowed the nervous knot in his throat. His stomach was jittery. "Well, I've been working on this painting…"

Azula knit her brows, "you're finally going to show it to me?"

"You seemed interested and I thought now would be a good time." With fingers that shook slightly, he pulled at the sheet that covered the canvas. "I worked really hard on it and it means a lot to me." He turned the canvas over and held it out to her.

Her expression seemed to dim as she ran her fingers over the paint. "Why?"

"I was fed up with drawing trees and hills and I had no inspiration. I was going to paint the palace and I saw you in the window…" He trailed off. "When I said that you helped me, this is what I meant."

"Why are you showing this to me now." Her tone seemed dark and sullen and he was beginning to regret his decision. The bemused look on her face only added to his anxiety. Of course, she didn't like it, he had painted her in a less than flattering state. But he still thought it looked nice.

"I don't know." He started. But he did. He knew very well, he was just timid to say it out loud. He did anyways. "Because I think it's pretty. I painted something that I thought was beautiful and I guess I wanted you to know that."

The princess remained dauntingly silent.

"I'd like to paint you again, now that you're getting better." He confessed. "I think that it'll look even better than the first."

"Is that right?" She asked, her voice still very hushed. It wasn't so hoarse any more as it was when she was on the Ruby Tears and smoking from her kiseru. He didn't realize that he had missed the silky sound of it.

"It is."

Azula stared at her palms. "You think I'm beautiful?"

He nodded and took her hand, it was clammy again but he would ignore that. "Very." Now that he had said it aloud…now that he had made it real, he didn't know what to do with the admission. He still didn't know exactly what he felt for the princess. She seemed equally as puzzled about how to take his revelation. He sighed inwardly, he was being ridiculous; he only told her that he found her attractive, it's not like he confessed to loving the firebender. But that was just it, wasn't it? He wasn't sure if that there was much separation between the two confessions. He wasn't sure at all of just what he felt for her.

.oOo.

A horrible three weeks it had been. And for a great deal of time she thought it would end as dreadfully as it had begun.

She felt fragile and naked—perhaps a little uncomfortable—but at the same time she felt…relieved. Maybe even pleasant.

She dabbed at her eye with her sleeve.

"Thank you Sokka."


	27. Chapter 27

A soft gust of wind ruffled Azula's hair and fluttered the hem of her shirt. In at least one or two regards, she was feeling much better. From her spot on the roof she could see much of what was going on in the courtyard; Zuko frantically rushing to meet a few councilmen, the guards making their daily rounds, Xanu barking orders at his 'pesky new-recruits', supply cart brimming with exotic foods and silks—one of them hitting a bump and almost over turning, and Sokka flicking his boomerang across the garden. Her body was still wracked with random jabs of discomfort and from time to time her head still pounded, though the sensations were easing up at least a little. Her mood had lifted significantly, bearing only faint traces of melancholy. She was still hurting, very much so, but her energy…her spark had been renewed. She'd spent that energy climbing to the top of the roof. The sun soaked into the exposed skin of her arms, neck, and face, splaying a pleasant warmth over her cheeks. Carefully she climbed back down the tiers of the roof, leaping from one to the next with the fluidity she had so terribly longed to retained. Her ease in getting from one place on the roof to the next cleared away the last visages of sadness that she had woken to. She flung herself back onto her balcony and slipped back inside. The sun still had some rising to do and it did her much good to know that she hadn't slept another day away. It seemed to her, that her sleeping patterns were starting to normalize again. As far as being awake through the day went anyhow. Throughout the fourth week she found herself reunited with her insomnia and sleepless nights. For the most part Sokka, with some meticulous effort, could get her at least a few hours of sleep that she might not have gotten without him.

Her eating habits, on the other hand, still hadn't righted themselves. She supposed, like most other things these days, that she would have to let that run its course as well. She washed herself, cloaked herself in something clean, and had breakfast—complete with an inspiring note from Toph, before joining Sokka in the courtyard.

"What's that?" He pointed to the folded sheet of paper in her hand.

"Your friend has been leaving me motivational letters and awful jokes to go with my breakfast." Azula replied. "Aang's handwriting but Toph's sense of humor."

"What was the joke."

Azula handed him the note.

"Please give this to Sokka…" he read.

"It was attached to a pear."

"Well, where's my pear?"

"I ate it." Azula replied. "I'll tell Toph that you need to grow your own."

"Hey!" Sokka hollered, only pushing Azula to smirk a little wider. She found a shady place under red dragon maple and took a seat. She leaned against the trunk, pulled her legs to her chest, and wrapped an arm around them. The other she used to toss a small ball of fire up and down—sometimes getting close enough to the leaves to have Sokka making that tense scrunchy face he always made when he was nervous.

"That's it!" Sokka shouted. Azula let the flame dissipate.

"What?"

"This is how I'm going to paint you next."

"You're still on about that?" Azula asked, tilting her head some. Ever since showing her the portrait he had begun to toss up suggestion after suggestion about how he would paint her next. Sure, the first one had done her a lot of good—had given her the boost of confidence that she needed—but she wasn't certain that she wanted a second one just then. Or if she wanted one at all. She still thought that her body needed a few repairs…a few flaws to be diminished first. She smoothed the cloth of her pants from the knee down.

"It's perfect, the lighting, the atmosphere, the setting…." He babbled. She had to admit, his eagerness was enthralling. Until then she had never seen him as the kind to take something like painting so seriously. His rambling fell short as he came to some kind of road block. "You don't mind, do you?"

Azula shrugged. "Go ahead." She supposed that if painting her made helped ease some of his stress, she'd let him do it. It was the least she could do. She moved her arm from around her legs to the ground on the side of her. She shifted her weight onto it.

Again Sokka exclaimed that it was perfect. He came to stand next to her and took her free arm and propped it up on her knees and then stepped back. "Better." He muttered. She rolled her eyes, wondering why she'd let the oaf pose her. But she didn't protest when he unbent her right leg. "Better." He repeated again. His touch lingered on her ankle, he met her gaze, and smiled.

For the moment it was enough to distract her from the unquenchable desire.

.oOo.

Sokka had come to realize that as much improvement as he needed in his execution of art, he had a special skill that not many seemed to have. One look was all he needed and he could re-create a scene almost exactly. The image was so rich in his mind and he had come to know Azula's face so well, it would be impossible for him to be unable to paint it from memory alone. He just hoped that he could do the scene justice. The soft orange and gold hues of dawn, the way the sun had fallen over the right side of Azula's face. The direction that the wind had carried her bangs. He began mixing the colors. Azula seated herself across the room from him with an armful of scrolls. He never had gotten around to asking her what she was reading about; she always seemed so completely engrossed in the text, he didn't want to breech her attention. Every now and again the princess would tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear but they were still too short to remain there for long and usually came tumbling back in front of her face.

He dipped his brush in the paint and made his first stroke of orange. Getting the first layer down always provided him time to think. He would daze off and paint on autopilot. On worser days he would think of Suki and everything that had gone wrong, leading up to her death. On afternoons like the present he was able to distance himself from that. Instead he found himself thinking of the woman across the room.

As the day wore on she was looking less and less happy until she looked downright miserable. He looked up from his painting, which now had a full first layer to see her gripping her head in frustration or pain—with her he couldn't distinguish the two. He considered that frustration was painful to her so that the emotions were one and the same. It was the first time in days he'd seen her looks so down. And to think, only hours before, she her smile had looked so genuine. "What's wrong?" He put his brush down.

"Sokka, I need them. I need the Tears."

.oOo.

She couldn't understand, not at all. She hadn't desired Tears at all really, not until just recently. She missed them terribly and the whimsical images they brought her. She missed the elated feeling. She the powder with such a surprising suddenness.

"What do you mean?" Sokka asked.

"I haven't had them in so long…" Instinctively she went ruffling through her dresser for something that wasn't there. When her fingers brushed no pouch, she slammed her fist on the wooden surface with force enough to make Sokka jolt. "I have to get more."

Regardless of the dark aura she gave off, the Water Tribesman approached, his hand finding her back. "No, you don't. The goal is to stay away from it."

"I don't care what the goal is!" She snapped, she wanted her Ruby Tears or at least an unhealthy douse of cactus juice to help her forget that she wanted them. She rubbed her temples, she was going to lose her mind again. She could feel him rubbing circles over her back. "Get me a glass of cactus juice."

"Nope. No can do." Sokka replied, "not a chance." By the wrist, he led her to her bed.

"Just one glass." She tried, well aware that she was dipping into pleading territory, "just one teeny glass, you don't even have to fill it all the way."

He gripped her shoulders with a firmness she didn't apricate and locked eyes with her. "I'm not going to help you throw away all of your progress. And you won't do it on your own either."

She crossed her arms. "You don't understand. I. Need. It." Her mouth was dry and every word to spill from it aggravated the deprovision more. All at once her craving didn't seem so sudden; the first time it hit was as her depression began fleeting. One thing to replace another. She feared that her cravings were going to bring the dismal mood back in full. "I really do."

"You don't." He shook her some and the need to lash out took over. Maybe she had a look in her eyes because he caught her by the hand before she could actually strike him. They scuffled about for some time—a knot of limbs and desperation—until her tiredness got the best of her and Sokka had her with her arms uncomfortably pinned behind her back. He held her like that until the last of the fight left her body and she went limp, breathing heavily. "You done?" He asked. She snarled and threw one last attempt into getting free, more out of spite than anything else. He waited for her to stop struggling again before carrying to his chair. He seated himself with a very agitated princess in his lap. She latched onto her anger, it kept her from thinking about the tears.

"How dare you?" She growled. The statement was broad, her aim to encompass every word and action he had just preformed. It was another attempt at a fight, if she could keep it going then she could forget about the Dragon's Breath and the cactus juice. Sokka held her around her middle, squeezing her somewhat tightly.

"You can tell Toph I grew my own pear." He smiled smugly to himself. He rested his chin in the crook of her neck, so foreignly intimate. It gave her something else to think about. Instead of fussing over the tears she found herself contemplating just how she felt about being so close to him. After minutes of dwelling on it, she could draw no real conclusion. She supposed that she should be thankful for such an ample distraction. At the same time, she didn't need any more things to be confused over. They sat like that for a long while until Sokka complained of his leg falling asleep. She let the man stand and moved to collect her scrolls and tidy the messes of the daylight hours.

The night was another long one. As her body yearned for the tears her mind pined for sleep. But one wouldn't allow the other to have its way. She threw the covers off for the eighth time that night; the cold sweats were still prevalent and she couldn't decide if it was more comfortable to have the blankets on or off. Again, she longed for the tears—just a simple little whiff—to take the symptoms away. Azula rolled over onto her side, she was beginning to miss the days where all her body wanted to do was sleep. She tossed again, this time putting herself face down with her head burrowed deeply into her pillow until a need to breath had her turning her head. But then her neck was uncomfortable so she rolled onto her other side…and then onto her back…and onto the side she began on…

Her longing for the tears only increased with the dawning of a new day. It seemed that every time a new day rose, her hunger for Ruby Tears did the same. So she found a new way to suppress it, at least to some degree. Over the passing days she had tried many things; first she had physically lashed at herself when the urge came on. But this unsettled Sokka greatly, so she cut it short almost immediately. Her second method consisted of inhaling raw spices—they had the same texture and feel of the Ruby Tears. But they burned her nostrils and left her throat drier than ever so she crossed that option off.

That morning the need for Dragon's Breath hit her hard. She sulked down to the dining room, looking about as cranky as Xanu when one of his recruits tried to impress him with 'a brand new, super effective' fighting stance. She grabbed a handful of lychee nuts and a bowl of dumplings. Such was becoming a new habit. A way to fill the void left by the tears. She was growing worried that it was becoming a new addiction. Every time a particularly strong craving hit, she would pick something from the table and pretend like it was the tears that she was consuming. Surly that was better than actually taking the tears. She tried to convince herself so. She hadn't noticed Sokka wander up to her until his hand cupped hers on the table. He smiled warmly but she was too aggravated to return it. She just wanted it to be over. She just wanted to be free. Free from the cravings and the cold sweats and the relentless insomnia. She just wanted to have control back.

But, Agni, the tears still had such a merciless hold on her.

Ruby Whore, the term echoed in her mind. She could clearly envision the shape of Khoza's as it was when he'd introduced her to the title. She wasn't even taking the tears anymore, but she was still a slave to them.

She was still a Ruby Whore.


	28. Chapter 28

Azula stood with a new satchel between her trembling fingers. She could hear it so clearly, a cluster of voice all repeating the same thing, "ruby whore…ruby whore…ruby whore." She dumped the powder over her dresser. "Ruby whore." And she stared at it longingly, trying to decide if she really wanted to take them. "Ruby whore." She did, she really did want to take them. Perhaps not truly, but the need was still there. She closed her eyes, she had to take them. "Ruby whore…" it was a soft singular whisper. She stooped down and sniffed the tears. She was overcome by all of the sensations she had grown to covet. The light and pleasant tingle, the smell, the initial kick before the real trip began. She loved it.

She loved it so very much.

And she hated herself for it.

She lie on her bed and waited for her soul to leave her body. For it to drift away into a world with colors she's never seen before and scents that probably didn't really exist. She was meant to be there. In a world where she wasn't concerned with the daily strife that assaulted her mind. In a world where she had no physical from to nit-pick and despise. She stared at the ceiling which buzzed and pulsated with a celestial sort of soothing white noise. She had missed it so much. She smiled to herself, a lopsided, sloppy sort of smile. A light dusting of warm snow was falling from nowhere and within minutes she was sprinkled with a soft blanket of it. The snow clung to her lashes and tasted like rich sugar on her lips. She'd never seen snow before. Azula could feel herself drifting away again, pleasantly and lighter than the air, like a languid flying paper lantern—the kind used so often at festivals. And then she was drifting in a sea of them and their warm light. She reached out with spectral fingers and snatched one, holding it close to her body. She bunched her body up around it so to see its glow better. It was her light, she needed light so much. She pushed it closer to herself and it merged into her body, leaving a soft orange glow in her belly. After some time, the lantern shifted until it came to a halt in her chest. That's where it remained luminating in flickers to the beat of her heart. A heart that endured so much abuse it was a wonder that it still beat at all. She needed that light there, and the tears had provided. But just as readily as they gave, the tears claimed. Minutes…maybe hours later, the light dimmed. And then dimmed some more until it flickered out entirely, leaving her colder and hollower than before.

Colder and hollower and with a dreadful sense of shame.

She could see Sokka looming over her physical body. He wore and expression of repugnance of complete disappointment. She wanted to tell him not to, but her lips wouldn't move. She tried to get up, to reach out but her body was so very heavy, she couldn't lift a finger. Maybe it was because her spirit was still feet away from her body.

But it was crashing and crashing fast. Plummeting with such a horrible speed it might break when it landed.

And break her spirit did.

It plummeted down with such a force that the sensation followed her into wakefulness.

She sat up feeling nauseous and queasy, her stomach lolling and churning. She could smell hot tea, but she didn't dare move, lest she really send her delicate stomach reeling. With a few unshed tears prickling behind her eyes she turned her face to peer out the window. Sokka had the curtains pulled back so she could see the first rays of morning tracing across the palace garden. She rubbed her eyes, the dream had been so vivid. It both awoke her longing tenfold and warned her away. She tried to sit up but her stomach lurched. Her face was uncomfortably hot. Sokka came to sit on the bed, placing a hand over her forehead. "I'm going to go get Katara." She had zero qualms about that and watched him slip out of the room. Her discomfort grew as she began to wake in full and take notice of things like her hair plastering to her clammy forehead and the way her robe had hitched up and bunched itself in an annoying lump at the base of her spine. But the moment she went to move it, her stomach recoiled and emptied. Sokka and Katara came back to find her hunched over and suppressing another round. Sokka made a move to lift her, but she held up her hand and keeled over again. He took the hint and fetched her a few rags and the trash can just in case. But that time the sensation passed. "Here, lets get you cleaned up." He and Katara helped her to her feet.

"Try adding peppermint to the bath." Katara instructed. "That's how Gran always helped me when I was feeling queasy."

Sokka nodded. Azula herself wasn't to fond of peppermint, the scent was much too potent for her, but at that point she was willing to try anything. "Is she going to be okay?"

Katara nodded, "it's just a fever, it should be gone in a few days."

Azula was expecting another trip to the springs but instead he led her to the bathroom and sat her on the ledge of the marble bathtub. As he waited for tub to fill he fetched her something to wear, a very simple robe red in color with splashes of pink at the hem. The fragrance of peppermint was beginning to tickle her nose. She put her robe aside and lowered herself into the bath. It took Sokka few minutes to reappear and that had left her with an abundance of time to think. To think and to dwell on her dream. If only she could get her hands on some more tears. She could always send a quick massager hawk to Chan. She missed him, she missed all of them. She missed the reckless fun that distracted her from everything. She missed not being coddled.

Sokka came back with a few bars of soap and some shampoo bottles, the ones they had left in the springs. He first patted at the corners of her mouth with the soap, with a warning to keep her lips pressed together. As if she hadn't already put two and two together, but the soap against her mouth kept her from vocalizing her annoyance. His fingers massaging her head with shampoo was also distracting enough to keep her from snapping. Eventually the need faded altogether. Despite not wanting to be overprotected, Sokka was always so gentle with her and she didn't want to lose that.

"Still feel sick?" He asked.

Azula nodded. "A little." She clutched her stomach. "A lot…" She dreaded moving, but she had to leave the bath eventually. Carefully and slowly she rose and dried herself and then pulled the robe on. She headed back down the hall with Sokka lingering behind.

The odor of tea was stronger than ever when she re-entered her bedroom. "I had Iroh brew you a fresh cup." Katara smiled. "Here." She held out the glass.

Azula took it and sat herself down. If she had her tears she could make all of this go away. Instead she had a cup of tea and Sokka rubbing tender circles on her tummy until the queasiness finally eased up some. She didn't know if she liked that or not.

She waited until he had left the room to fetch her some soup, to pen a letter to Chan.

Azula didn't get a response until later into the following week. Her cravings weren't growing any sparser. In fact, they seemed to be getting worse she tried more ways to dull them but none of her antics seemed to be working. That made it so much easier to snatch Chan's reply. She half expected him to chide her for only reaching out to him to get her fix. But he didn't he seemed quite thrilled to hear from her again. This left her with a distinct reminder that she hadn't told him that she was trying to come off of the tears. She was lying again, something that always came so easily to her. She almost felt bad for it but she needed her tears and he would have never given them to her if he knew that she'd been away from them for so long. No, he was probably under the impression that she had simply run out of her stash and needed a re-fill. She'd let him keep that thought.

She opened the teeny satchel and gazed feverishly at the powder within.

Ruby Whore.

.oOo.

Just when Sokka thought that he'd seen every surprise the princess had in store for him, she gave him a new one. This one came in the form of watching her dump a brand sparkling new supply of Ruby Tears onto her dresser. It was wonderful, just wonderful—he was already having a bad day being as the anniversary of Suki's death was approaching. "Azula!" Was all he managed. But it was loud enough to arouse a flinch and attain her attention.

She held one hand over her face. Shaking her head, she muttered a soft apology.

"Don't apologize to me." He tried to keep his voice level. "You haven't taken them yet. Have you?"

"No, not yet." She muttered. "But I'm going to, I have to."

"You don't have to." He insisted.

"I dream about them sometimes…" She trailed off. As if that explained anything to him. His cheeks were growing hot, his stomach boiling with pent up rage. He couldn't stop thinking about Suki, he'd already snapped at Katara (earning himself a verbal brawl with Zuko), and now he was going to watch Azula destroy herself…again. He couldn't understand how she could be so…so…selfish? No that wasn't it, pathetic was the word that came to mind. He shoved it away, not knowing where it had come from.

"Don't you dare." He growled when he noticed her turn back to the tears.

"I have to." She repeated again. "You don't understand."

"You're right, I don't understand!" He threw his hands in the air. "We, me and Katara. Have been—no, me, Katra, Zuko, Aang, and Toph have been doing so much for you and it's still not good enough?"

"That's not true." Her voice was dangerously low. Or, being in the mood he was, he thought it was. If he hadn't been so provoked he would have distinguished that it was more of a somber low. "I just…" She ran a finger through the trail of tears.

"You just don't care how hard the rest of us try to care about you."

"I said that I was a hard person to care about." She replied. Sokka knew before she finished, that he had just pushed her closer to inhaling the powder. "The tears help me forget about that."

"Yeah well we're trying anyways so you can burn up your new stash and get over here."

She shook her head.

"I thought you were stronger than that!" He challenged. He didn't mean it to be patronizing, he meant it affectionately…motivationally but his delivery was so painfully off that he wasn't surprised when the fire flared behind her eyes. The harder he tried to reconcile and backtrack the deeper he dug himself. And Azula was too close to the hole, he was pulling her in with him. She was so close to the tears, all she had to do was take one deep breath and then everything would be for nothing.

It was over before Sokka could comprehend any of it. He didn't even realize what he'd done until he met her eyes. The shock was plastered so plainly on her face. He didn't mean to be so forceful, he just wanted to keep her from ruining everything she'd worked for.

The bolt of lightning she sent in his direction was expected and deserved. He hadn't seen her snarl so viciously in a long time. Another bought of fire had him scrambling to her dresser. He had already done the damage, she couldn't possibly be anymore furious at him. With nothing else to lose he soiled the powder on her dresser and snatched the pouch containing the rest of it. He could hear her screech his name as he stole her means of escapism as he bolted.

.oOo.

She had cried in sorrow. She had cried in frustration. She had cried in pain and in helpleness. And in defeat. She had even cried in confusion before. But never until then, did Azula cry in completed and unabashed fury. He had never touched her before, not in anger. And then he had the gull to take her Ruby Tears. She screamed at no one in particular.

She screamed again.

Once more.

It felt good.

Almost as good as tearing the sheets from her bed, almost as good as throwing each and every pillow. One knocked a few glasses and vases from her nightstand.

She didn't have her tears, she didn't have her cactus juice nor her kiseru, and she didn't have Sokka—the thought of him had her mind whirring in shades of red—she didn't have anything to ground her. She didn't have anything to keep her from overturning her night stand altogether. Nor from hurling flashes of lightning at the wall. She shrieked again, this time it brought stings to her throat. That time she couldn't place what it was that she flung across the room, she didn't care. She wanted to hurt someone or something. The only person in the room for Azula to hurt was the princess herself. Her door was thrown open before she could get any further.

Zuko and Katara and trailing behind them were Toph and Aang. She glowered at them with a feral, menacing gleam in her eyes.

They might have grown used to her, might have begun to see her as a human being. But Agni, was she giving them a potent reminder that they were still dealing with a monster. And this monster had been cornered.

Fire crackled over her finger tips and she would have chucked it at them if Katara hadn't encased her hands in ice. She melted it away and tossed her fire. Aang dispersed it with a swirl of air so she sent him another. With her focus mostly on Aang, she almost didn't see Zuko coming. But he didn't come with an attack, instead he held her close as she beat her hands against him. She could have used fire, that would have had him gone. But she didn't want to, he hadn't done anything to her…

He stroked her hair, just like when they were kids. Just like he did after Ozai had found the mess they'd made and raged at them. He brushed his hand over her head until her breathing grew steady again. "I'm going to kill him, I swear Zu-Zu, I'm going to do it."

"Yeah, Sokka is pretty irritating." Toph agreed.

.oOo.

Sokka hid his head in his knees and covered his ears, but he could still hear her distress and her angry howls. And it was his fault. It was all his fault. The scene unfolded over and over in his mind. His hand snaking around her middle and tossing her onto the bed with a roughness he didn't intend. The rush of air as it left her lungs for a moment. The stunned daze that she looked up at him with before completely losing it.

All he wanted to do was protect her from herself. Maybe she needed protection from him. He grumbled to himself. That was nonsense, she didn't need protection from him, she made that pretty clear. She could have taken him down easily and he would have let her, he almost wanted her to. But she definitely needed protection from herself. She may not be a danger to anyone else, but the damage she could do herself…

He eyed the pouch in his hands with much hatred. To think that the dust, a few tiny particles, could have such a hold on a person. Could ruin many lives in one streak.

If he could find her supplier…

He slapped his own cheek. He wanted to go back and apologize to her but he was afraid of what she'd do to him. More than that, he was afraid of what his appearance would do to her. So he sat alone in the dark and listened to the murmured words of his friends as they tried to comfort her.

He wanted them to comfort him.

They were supposed to be his friends. Still, the better part of him was glad that they were accepting and supporting the princess. He just wished that one of them would check on him.

He was so alone.

He missed Suki more than ever.


	29. Chapter 29

Two weeks had gone by and she hadn't talked to him. Usually she would at least offer him a snide remark or two. At most her grudges usually lasted for a day or two. This time she held it. He started to think, then, that the princess only forgave him so easily in the past because she had no one else to rely on. Now that she had four other people willing to engage with her, she didn't need to forgive him. He was reeling all over again. Especially since in those two weeks and things were tense with the gang too. He had already been in a rocky place with Zuko. After his sister had lifted her shirt to display a trail of purple bruises over puffy, swollen ribs, it was over. To the surprise of Sokka and Azula both, Zuko refused to speak with him at all after that. Sokka was beginning to feel like an outsider, like the princess was taking his place. Katara was the only one who conversed with him like normal, but he found that he was no longer in the mood for conversation. After the first week of being side-lined and resented, he locked himself in his room. He hadn't gotten far into his second painting at all but on a sort of overwhelming impulse, he slashed it up, she was no longer making him happy. He was willing to say that this time his misery was all her fault. He had done so much for her and she had taken everything from him. His friends, his support…those where the only valuable things. Yet he kept losing them in some way or another.

He looked at the tatters of canvas on the floor.

She was one of those friends.

Deep down he knew that his rage was rooted in hurt. Deep down he was certain that Azula's grudge had the same core.

Fresh out of fury to fuel him, Sokka threw himself onto his bed tossed his boomerang over and over and over again until the sound of knocking pulled him out of the pattern. It was probably Katara, come to deliver his meal. He didn't have much of an appetite for it—a telltale sign that he wasn't doing too well. He threw the door open—with a needless force—to find himself half right. "Here." Azula thrust the food at him. He made no move to take it. "I didn't have to bring this to you."

"Then why did you? You could have left it to Katara."

"Maybe Katara's getting tired of hearing you complain." Azula shrugged. "Things are dull without you. Zu-Zu's well enough but he's overprotective. Katara does a lot of coddling too. And they feed off of each other…"

"So?" He asked.

"You." She started. "You know what to do. They don't. I like you the most."

"That explains why you've been ignoring me."

"Well you're completely infuriating and I hate you the most." She set the platter aside and crossed her arms.

"You only talk to me because you need me." Sokka replied.

"That's not true, I don't need you, I have other people now." Azula shrugged. "But I want to talk to you."

Sokka could feel himself growing annoyed. She had been slighting him for two weeks and suddenly he's her favorite. She wanted something and he wasn't going to involve himself this time. He was ready to take her by the arm, give her a swift shove, and slam the door in her smug face. "Did you ever consider that I don't want to talk to you."

"I did." She replied, twirling her bangs around her finger. "And I decided that you did because you're lonely."

He walked closer and she took a few steps back to accommodate. "You decided wrong." With those steps she was no longer in his room and he was pushing the door shut. But she wedged her hand between the door and the frame, holding it open with the strength he forgot she had.

"No, you decided wrong." She forced the door open and squeezed inside, "you're going to let me stay."

"This is my room!" He hollered.

Undaunted she replied, "yes, and it's in my palace." She gracefully seated herself upon his bed and inspected her nails. She must have just had them done, they were filed nicely, clipped to the same length, and painted with a shimmery gold. She tapped one of those nails on his chin, "you need to shave."

"You need to get out of here and mind your own business!" He demanded.

She gave a humored sniff, "I'm not the only person in this room who has a problem with that." She stretched her arms and elongated herself on the mattress.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" He asked.

Azula shook her head. "Not until eight…" she was going to say more but he didn't want to hear it.

"Well then maybe you should get ready for that."

"I'm trying." She replied.

"In my room?"

"It's a festival and you're coming with me." She said it as if it were decided.

"Take Toph or something."

She sat up and tilted her head as if she couldn't fathom his rejection. Truth be told he wanted to say yes, but he wanted…what did he want? An apology? To hear her beg for it? No, he just wanted to be angry. He wanted to show her the cold-shoulder that she showed him. She wrinkled her nose, "I want to take you."

"Well I don't want to go with, especially not with you."

He could see it in her eyes that she didn't believe it. Not at first, not until she looked at the floor. The gold-orange dipped shreds that he hadn't cleaned. He let her stare for a moment, watching a series of indistinguishable emotions flicker across her face. Without another word she left, slamming the door for him.

He slapped the heel of his palms against his hairline and fell back onto the bed. Why had he done that? He could have taken her to the festival and it would have been over then. Instead he kicked the dragon again and she had just curled her talons and stormed out.

.oOo.

Azula couldn't place it at first what churned beneath the resentment.

Rejection.

It wasn't something she took well.

She particularly wasn't attuned to it coming from Sokka. Sokka who had always put up with her no matter how difficult she was being. And the torn up portrait on the floor didn't do anything to soften the blow or help her self-esteem, something she was still working to piece together.

"How'd it go?" Aang smiled hopefully. "Is he coming with us?"

"Did you tell him that we're not mad?" Katara asked.

"I didn't get that far." Azula replied as Zuko muttered, "speak for yourself."

"Why are you mad, Zu-Zu?"

"Look what he did to you." He grumbled.

"How about you get mad about your own problems instead of mine? For instance, Councilman Yano has been calling you 'the Wussy Lord' for the past three weeks."

"I'm dealing with him!" Zuko snapped. Clearly he was in a mood. It would seem like the last two weeks had been difficult for all of them. At least she could say that she had some high points, the morning beneath the red dragon maple stood out. It stood out and brought a fresh pang in her heart.

"I didn't get to tell him that you've been all bothered because of the council. He thinks it's his fault."

"It is! Partially." Zuko grumbled.

Azula couldn't disagree, but she also had to admit that the other part had been her.

"Well, maybe the festival will cheer him up." Aang grinned.

"Speaking of…"

.oOo.

She wasn't used to having her hand held. In fact, Toph couldn't remember a time when she allowed someone to hold it. But there under the festival lanterns she found her hand locked with Azula's. She didn't realize that the princess had such a sense of humor. "This festival won't have fireworks, will it, Sparky?"

Azula deliberately ignored the 'pet name'. "All Fire Nation festivals have fireworks."

"Oh great." Toph grumbled. "Looks like you're going to have to cuddle me and protect me from the scary noises."

"Just take a lantern and get over it." Azula shoved a lantern on a stick into her hand.

"I'm sure I'd enjoy this festival a lot more if I could see it. Aren't there any games."

"Well, this is a lantern viewing festival…"

Toph threw her hands up, "why do you dullards even invite me to these things!?"

Azula chuckled, "to hear your charming commentary of course."

"I'm expecting a very detailed description of every lantern that floats up." Toph insisted.

"I'll do my best, love." Azula stroked Toph's cheek.

Once again, the earthbender had to admit that the princess was good. If she didn't know any better she'd almost say that Azula really was her lover. Much to Toph's amusement, no one else seemed to know any better. The description of their faces that Azula gave would be better than any silly lantern imagery.

"I smell cinnamon and hot icing." Toph noted, she could go for a cinnamon roll or two. "Get me one?"

Azula shrugged, "I might as well."

"Sweet."

By the time they left the stall Toph had a whole bag of cinnamon rolls, a box of mochi, and a fortune cookie to occupy her hands alongside the lantern. Agreeing to be the princess' date was the best idea she'd ever had. She chomped on her cinnamon roll and, with her feet, scoped the area for something else to entertain herself with. A little way down the street she could hear excited whoops and frustrated curses. Her feet told her that it was some kind of festival game. "You're good at things." Toph looked at Azula.

"Most things, yes." Azula agreed. "What's your point?"

"Are you good at that?" She pointed at the stall.

"Probably." Azula shrugged.

"I want a stuffed dragon." Toph stated. "I actually need him."

Azula rolled her eyes, "you don't even have the arm space for a stuffed dragon."

"But you do."

"I can go back to that stall and change that." Azula replied.

"I'll give you a kiss if you win it for me, Sparky!"

"I'll win you three of them not to."

"Really?"

"No."

"Okay, okay but think of the possibilities!" Toph tried. "You see, if I have a stuffed dragon I can name it Zuko. And then when he starts going on one of his rants I can hold it up and bob it with each word and pretend like its talking. Do you know how annoying that would be!?"

"That would be completely aggravating." Azula answered. "I'll have a stuffed dragon for you in a few minutes."

Toph smirked smugly and watched the firebender saunter up to the stand. By the end of the line of booths, Toph had not just a stuffed dragon named Zuko but a polar bear dog named Katara, a signing groundhog named Aang, and a penguin named Sokka. At first Sokka was going to be the polar bear dog but the penguin's eye was sewn on lopsided making it look rather goofy. At once she knew that the penguin was Sokka. She convinced Azula to go back twice more and win her a wolfbat—which she named after herself—and another dragon that she started calling Sparky. She plucked a used sparkler stick off of the ground and put it in the stuffed dragon's mouth. "Sparky, meet Sparky. He has a drug problem, see." She pointed to the used sparkler. She could sense the princess staring at her. Toph howled with laugher, "any chance that'll you'll describe the look on your face right now?" She had a pretty good idea of it.

"You're hilarious, love." She spoke flatly. Beneath that she could sense at least some amusement. Azula definitely had a better sense of humor than Zuko. One of these days she would remove that stick from his anus.

Eventually the crowd began to thin as everyone migrated to the hillside for the firework display and the lantern release. Toph had little interest in it. The fireworks came first and, as much as she hated to admit it, she was jumping and starting the whole time until Azula found it in her fiery heart to start warning her when the next one was about to burst. The lanterns were awful in a different, duller Azula gave rather elaborate descriptions of the best lanterns, Toph still found herself bored, it was probably one of those things that she would have to see to actually enjoy. Catching onto her boredom Azula whispered, "You know what would really drive these people nuts?"

"What?" Toph asked. As the lanterns began lifting around them Azula gave her a peck on the cheek, long enough to make onlookers do a double take, but short enough to prevent something ridiculously awkward. For the second time that night Toph nearly doubled over with laughter. Many of those who stared unblinkingly now rolled their eyes at the little prank. "Ah man, you're a riot Sparky!"

.oOo.

Sokka could hear the bursts echoing across Capital City. Every now and again one would be mockingly bright enough to illuminate his room and remind him of what he was missing out on—what he could have been enjoying if he would have just accepted Azula's peace offering. He flopped onto his side and tried to get some sleep but the continuous banging wouldn't allow it. When it did fall silent between bursts the stark quiet of the palace was almost worse. Not a soul lurked in the palace, servants and guards alike were allowed the night off, after all the beginning of the summer solstice was a thing to celebrate.

Eventually he gave up on sleeping and wandered aimlessly around the palace. At one point he stumbled upon the one other person in the palace. "Why aren't you at the festival."

"Someone's gotta guard this place." Xanu sniffed. "Those new guards, they see a couple of pretty little fireworks and they're chanting like kids for a day off."

"The older guards are there too." Sokka pointed out.

Xanu grunted, "they're lazy, the lot of them."

"I don't think anyone's going to break in here." Sokka shrugged.

"Even so, I don't like festivals. Too much noise and not enough space."

Sokka could understand that.

"Why are you still here? You don't have a job to do."

"Too much noise, not enough space." He lied.

"It's that princess isn't it?" He asked. "I'm telling everyone, she's trouble."

"She isn't so bad." Sokka replied. "Everyone here is trouble, have you talked to Toph?" Xanu's cringe told him all that he needed to know. "I guess I'll let you get back to guarding the place then." Sokka left feeling no different, he didn't know why he expected some deep and enlightening conversation from Xanu. At least he knew he wasn't the only buzzkill around.

Sokka couldn't say when it happened but after a few more hours of pointless traipsing he found himself in Azula's room. It smelled like her; cinnamon and pine, a touch of tea and the tang of smoke with a very faint trace of tobacco that still lingered. His heart clenched, he could feel butterflies swarming in his belly. He missed being in here. He missed talking to her. He sat on her bed, it had been made very neatly. He didn't know if such was her doing or one of the serving personal. She still had a few books and scrolls scattered on the side of the bed she didn't sleep on. Leaning against the dresser was his portrait of her. Suddenly he was unbearably tired. He curled himself onto her bed, only intending to rest for a few minutes. But the pillows had her scent too and it beckoned him to sleep.

.oOo.

Azula arranged her festival souvenirs upon her dresser. First set down a golden maneki cat-owl. Around it she arranged a few trinket coins (the ones she hadn't spent on games), one of the lanterns that had fallen from the sky, a few sticks of sparklers that she and Toph had used, two intricate ruby and gold hair chopsticks, and a string of golden beads. She had made a point of buying a few new vases to both hold the other kick-knacks and replace the ones she had shattered during her fit. In the corner of her room, she set her lantern on a stick. A beautiful thing really; made of paper and with hand painted flames. All in all, she had a swell time.

She moved away from her new possessions and strolled to her bed, rubbing tired eyes. It had been a long day; she still longed for her tears. But at this point they weren't consuming her every thought as they had been in the weeks prior. She still wished she had them though, at least a little something, she could only imagine how magical the festival would have been with the extra kick…

Coming upon the bed, Azula narrowed her eyes. "Hey, dumbass, you have your own bed. Sleep in it!" He jerked awake with a surprised yelp. She almost laughed, but she had a feud to continue. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest. "Hurry up, I'm tired and I need to use that."

"Sorry." Sokka mumbled, looking up at her with those puppy dog eyes. That look only worked for one person and that one person was TyLee.

"You will be soon." Azula didn't budge.

Sokka sighed, looking for all the world like she had just given him the worst verbal beatdown in Fire Nation history. She wouldn't cave, not after he'd so blatantly picked at her pride. The sting of seeing the tattered painting still brought a flaming sensation to her stomach. Apparently, she wasn't a subject worth painting after all. And after all of that pretty talk.

"What are you doing in here anyways?"

He rubbed the back of his head. "I don't know. Nothing. It's stupid."

"Yes, it is." She agreed unrelentingly.

He stood and hustled to the door, lingering to look at her lantern. "Did you have a good time?"

"Lovely," but it would have been better if you were there, "especially because I didn't have to deal with you." She didn't know he was going to cry, if she did she might have spoken what was really on her mind. She rolled her eyes, "stop that, it's annoying."

"Then make me stop." Sokka hollered.

Azula hesitated, "…I don't know how."

Sokka laughed, the sort of laugh that chilled her. The laugh that so clearly resembled her own unhinged laughter. "Just—just talk to me."

"I am."

"Talk to me like you don't hate me."

"I don't hate you."

"Then why are you still telling me to leave?"

Azula shifted her weight, growing uncomfortable. She wanted to say something comforting but instead she reminded him of just who threw who out the last time.

"I'm sorry." He muttered.

"Okay."

"Okay, it's fine? Okay, you don't care that I'm sorry?"

"It's fine." She elaborated. "I guess."

His fingers grazed over her ribcage. "I didn't want to do that. I just didn't want you to have to start all over again."

Azula bit the inside of her lip and shifted again. "I don't think I would have given it a second try…" So what was she trying to tell him? That she was glad he had manhandled her? "Maybe next time try throwing the pouch instead?" She couldn't help the attitude that crept into her voice.

"It was an impulse." He ran his hand through disarrayed hair. Impulsive, she mused, that made two of them.

"I suppose we're a dangerous pair, aren't we?" She half-smirked.

Azula gave him the room to come closer. With visible reluctance he extended his arm, falling inches short of touching her until she indicated permission. He was hugging her tighter than usual, leaving her with the vague impression that maybe she should be doing the hugging. Tenderly, he caressed her ribcage, as though that could somehow take away the imprint of pain left there. For a considerable duration of time they stood like so. With the firebender awkwardly admitting to herself that she missed his touch. What that meant, was still just beyond her comprehension, but dancing much closer to it than ever before. "Why have you been so uptight lately?" She spoke, no longer wanting to dwell any further.

The question caught him off guard, she could hear that much in his sputtering. "I-I don't know. Because you…you're feeling better and I'm not."

Azula furrowed her brows and cocked her head.

"It seems like I'm the only one who's completely fucked up anymore. You're getting better…"

"I'm not." She cut him off. "Not completely."

"But you've been clean for what, eight weeks now?"

"Do you think that the drugs were my only problems? What do you think pushed me to them Sokka?" She really didn't mean to make it about her again, but Sokka was steering the conversation that way. He didn't want to talk about his problems yet and if he was anything like her she'd have to claw it out of him.

"You're not alone anymore. Zuko cares about you. Toph has a lot of fun with you. Aang has always seen the good in you. Even Katara is warming up to you." Sokka half-smiled.

"People still think I'm a lunatic. People used to envy me, do you know how they look at me now?"

"Do you?" Sokka asked. "Because I think that you're projecting."

"Excuse me." His bluntness had a way of taking her aback.

"I haven't seen one person snicker or laugh at you since you stopped taking Ruby Tears." Sokka replied. "Except for maybe Xanu, but he complains about everyone."

"He's just mad that I kicked him in the balls." She muttered.

"That was you?" Sokka exclaimed.

She allowed herself a small yet smug laugh.

"So it's settled then," Sokka decided, "you know that no one lowly of you."

She almost told him that she did. But even then she wasn't sure of that. There were days, wonderful days when she didn't hate herself—or maybe she simply forgot about that hatred in the moment. Other days though, she couldn't stand herself and she didn't know why. For that she wanted to go back to the Ash Pit, something about it allowed her to forget herself. To forget her own standards. "That's not it, Sokka." She mumbled, reminded of the other thing that had been clawing away at her.

"Okay, what else then?" He asked.

She wished he hadn't because it all came tumbling out before she could stop it. From the first stumbling journey to the Ash Pit to the next and every ass kicking in between. She told him of the rumble and the initiation beat down—of how terribly small it had rendered her. She told him of getting wildly wasted and, with deliberately less detail, of her night with Minho and Chan and then once again with Chan. Up until then Sokka hadn't cringed at all. "No one is going to love me like that." Azula finished. "Like Chan or Minho…" She was quite for a moment, but not long enough to let him reply. "No one wants to."

He was shedding the tears she could not. "I can."

Azula wasn't sure that she heard him right, or that he had spoken at all. But the thing, the feeling that danced so close to her comprehension was now within grasp. And the fingers that unfurled in her mind reached out. She supposed it made sense.

Why his scorn her so much.

Why his company meant the world.

She didn't know in the faintest, how to reply. Maybe the response wasn't meant to be verbal at all. Even so she never imagined that she would be the one to reach out first. But when his eyes seemed to double in size, she knew that he hadn't been the one to kiss her.

No, like most all of their fights and disputes, she had initiated it.

Azula felt his hand on her head, and then one slide up her back. His lips were on hers longer than she expected them to be, he seemed to lean into her, dipping her back slightly. Still, it was to short. He pulled his lips away. But they remained close. It must have been only for a few seconds, but it felt longer, that they had stood with their foreheads touching. She could feel his breaths on her lips.

This time she heard him very clearly. "I can."


	30. Chapter 30

Sokka hated starting over on anything, but he had slashed that painting up too well to fix. He groaned, even he knew it was becoming melodramatic. But Agni, if Azula wasn't amused he didn't know what amusement looked like. Apparently, it served him right for tearing it up in the first place and she was smugly watching him try to recreate the same colors. She was perched upon his bed, laughing at him. "Shut up!" He finally snapped. She only snickered harder. His face was growing hot and flushed, "do you want me to paint it or not?"

"You'll paint it regardless." She said, unconcerned.

She knew that she was right as well as he did. He watched as Azula made herself comfortable under his blankets. Or rather, momentarily comfortable. She cringed and threw the blankets off, squinted at something, and scrunched her nose. "Why is it that you and Zu-Zu have such a problem picking up your dirty socks? How are the servants supposed to find them if you hide them under your covers?"

"I wanted to surprise you."

"I don't like surprises. I never have." Azula replied, using his blankets to shield her fingers as she discarded the sock. "Unless I am doing the surprising."

"Your surprises are the worst." He grumbled.

That self-satisfied smile was back, "yes, I know." She stretched out on the bed again and watched him put the first stroke on the canvas. The image was still fresh in his mind despite the weeks put in between. He had made a point of memorizing it vividly so he could get it all down. He cast a glance back at the princess, who—as she did when she had nothing else to do—snapped a tiny flame in between her thumb and pointer, let it die, and then repeated the gesture. She propped herself up against a pillow with her free hand on her belly, her left leg bent, and the right extended. "Stop ogling and get back to your painting." He turned his head to do just so, behind him he could hear the tiny pop that came with each time a flame glowed atop her fingers. For a while she remained in his room with him, he was halfway to catching up with his previous progress when she slipped out. Along her way she brushed his shoulder with her hand. He was back to the point he had been at before ripping the original up, when Azula returned. He was about to ask her where she had gone when she dumped an arm full of brushes and small sponges into his lap as well as a few vials of paint in hues to pricey for him to have acquired on his own. "You're welcome."

"You just want to make sure your portrait looks good." Sokka rolled his eyes.

She hummed to herself, "maybe so." She repositioned herself in mostly the same way as earlier, this time it was her right leg bent and the left elongated. The hand she had previously used to toy with her fire was now tucked under her head.

Truth be told he was getting tired of painting, at least for the night. The brilliant golds and radiant oranges were beginning to irritate his eyes and his wrist was growing cramped. He'd managed to catch himself up and then a little more so he made his way to the bathroom and rinsed the palette and his brushes in the sink. He tucked them into place and joined Azula on the bed. It had been a few days since the firebender had kissed him and he didn't quite know where to go from there. He curled his fingers around her hand, but that was something he'd done before she kissed him. Holding her close was also something he'd done prior. There were so many things he'd done and seen before she kissed him that he ought not to have. Most every time they went to the springs came to mind. Perhaps that should have told him that he had loved her all along. That having finally been kissed by her sober was only natural. That the kiss had only made things more official. Yet even after it, she made no mention of loving him. It was bothering him some. His thumb stroked the top of her hand, he could see that she was growing sleepy. "Hey, it's still early!"

"Hmm…nope. You've been painting for hours." Azula replied. "I was just out there, it's pretty dark."

He wanted to steal a peek between the curtains, but he had already gotten nice and cozy on the bed, so he would take her word for it. Her eyes were closed, the only sound for the moment was her soft breathing. Something he was happy he wouldn't have to worry about anymore. She seemed to be sleeping easier these days and it showed on her face and in her spike in energy. He reckoned that she still wasn't at her peak, normal levels of it though. With Azula having fallen quiet, he was dwelling again. Indeed, she hadn't said that she loved him. He wondered if it really mattered after having their lips locked. But then, she hadn't done it a second time. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, the one that wasn't clutching hers. Her cheek was warm, soft, pleasant. He figured that she wouldn't let him touch her like so if she didn't love him, or at least hold him at a higher level than others. Still, he wanted a firm, solid answer. His thumb grazed her lips, it was a touch enough to let him know that they were no longer cracked and dry. "Do you love me?" He finally mustered up the courage.

"Do you know what sleep is?" She tiredly languid.

"Do you love me?"

Azula tugged him down on top of her, his head resting on her chest. She trailed dainty fingers along his back, tracing the line of his spine. "I don't know if I have a choice." She mumbled. She sat up just enough to kiss the top of his head before resuming her slumber.

.oOo.

She very much regretted letting him sleep on top of her; in the worst way possible she came to learn that he drooled in his sleep. Her entire face bunched up in disgust and she swatted him on the back of the head. He bolted up right brandishing a boomerang that he didn't actually have.

"What's going on, what's wrong?"

"You're gross, that's what's wrong." She answered, jotting a quick mental note to have him sleep either next to or under her from then on out.

"You keep saying that…"

"And you keep reiterating it." Azula declared as she tugged the slobbered robe off. The nightdress she wore beneath was cut rather low and somewhat tight, something Sokka took a keen notice of. For the second time within such a short period she scolded him to stop staring. She moseyed to the door and paused, putting her hands on her hips. "Are you coming or not? I'd love to get some cherries before Aang steals them all."

"I doubt that you'll run out." Sokka gestured about the opulent palace.

"I'd like to have my breakfast eating before Zu-Zu starts is morning moaning."

"Morning moaning?"

"Yes, you see he has is morning moaning sessions, where he whines about things that bothered him the night before and then his twilight complaints, where he grumbles about the things that annoyed him throughout the day."

Sokka chuckled. "Maybe you should do that, instead of keeping it all in."

"Sokka, if I had a scheduled complaining time, I wouldn't get anything else done." She replied. Such things included finally getting back to her training. She'd been meaning to do it weeks ago but the mild lingering aches had been keeping her from it. There were plenty of other distractions as well—most of them stemming from a certain Water Tribe man—that held her back. The princess had every intention of resuming her training within a few hours. Being brutally honest with herself, she fretted that she was painfully out of shape. She knew deep down that another major reason she'd been putting her bending off was that she'd come back to it to find that she wasn't as talented as before. She feared nothing more than that. If anything, that was plenty reason enough to get back to it quickly.

She and Sokka arrived just in time to hear Zuko finish a spiel about how Mai never supported him and that they were officially off again. "Now I'm going to be alone like you." He pointed at Azula with his empty shishkebab stick.

"Yes, about that…" Azula pulled out a chair, tossing a glance to Sokka whose eyes were glittering with some unfathomable level of delight. It would seem that this was blunt confirmation he had been looking for. She found herself rolling her eyes, she didn't understand what he had against abundant context clues.

"Gee thanks." Zuko grumbled. "Now I'm going to be the only one whose alone."

"That's not true, Toph has no friends." Sokka smirked.

"Sure I do." She lifted her fists. "If you keep talking I'll let you meet 'em."

"I'd like to see that." Katara murmured.

Zuko looked to Aang in a silent plea for help. The avatar chirped up, "maybe I can hook you up with Meng!"

"You guys aren't helping! I have a lot of things to take care of. Uncle's going to be dropping by soon and Ursa is coming with him and I have to make it look like we have everything under control."

Azula gave an entertained snort, "good luck, even I would be able to lie that hard."

Zuko's eye twitched, reminding the princess that she hadn't lost her touch in at least one regard. "Okay, do you want to run this palace!?"

"Very much, yes."

"You know what! Fine! I'm going to go to Ember Island and I'm not coming back until this place is in order."

Making good on her word, Toph whipped out dragon Zuko and started bobbing it to the rhythm of the real Zuko's shouts. She flew the dragon over to the nearest pineapple she could detect, pretending that it was a palm tree.

"Well?" Azula held her hand out expectedly. To her surprise, the Fire Lord crown was gleaming in her hand.

"I'm going to have the best vacation in Ember Island history and none of you are invited. I'll take Momo."

Again, Toph waved the stuffed animal around.

"On second thought," Azula turned to Sokka. "Do remind me to wake up early so I can catch the whole show."

"I'll try." He replied, offering her a cherry. She had almost forgotten that, that was why she had come down in the first place. He popped it into her mouth.

"Hey! Hey! See if I can catch one in my mouth." Toph yelled louder than really necessary. Fully acquainted with the earthbender's shenanigans, Azula flicked one over. She didn't need to turn around to know the result. Toph gave a victorious yelp accompanied by a few claps from Aang and an, "it's not that incredible" from Katara.

After a few more cherries, Azula rose. "Come on Sokka, we have a council meeting to attend." Her firebending could wait, she had to enjoy the crown and the throne before Zu-Zu's tantrum came to an end and he realized that he wanted it back. If she heard him correctly, she would be deciding what items they'd be trading with the Water Tribes and she had to make sure that sea prune stew was not on that list.

"You've been Fire Lord for three hours now and you've already made a big mistake." Sokka muttered upon the success of barring the vile stew from ever reaching Fire Nation shores.

"On the contrary, I spared my people the taste of ungodly flavors." She flicked at her hair. Mostly the day had kept her distracted. Lately she had been longing for those distractions as much as the tears, being as they blocked out her other cravings. But with nothing else to do, the princess began thinking again, of Chan and the others. Dwelling upon this creeping feeling that she had some sort of unfinished business of there. Nearly three days since spilling it to Sokka and she couldn't quite put it out of her mind.

Sokka, it would seem, was thinking about such as well. But for a different reason entirely. "So what's he like, this Minho guy?"

Dead. She hadn't realized she'd spoken the thought until she caught the faint dismay on Sokka's face. She knew that he would ask so she added, "it was an overdose." She swiped a decorative tea cup from one of the hallway coffee tables and inspected it. She pondered sharing more but did not.

"Overdose of what?"

The glace she shot him was answer enough but she decided not to dance around the subject. "He was using them with me when he did it." It was something that stirred every now and again when she had nothing else to fret over. The faint sense that she had led him to die. The larger, more logical side of her knew that he would have eventually met the same fate with or without her. All the same she couldn't help but feel that he would have lasted a bit longer if they weren't egging one another on.

"Is that why you came home?" He asked softly.

Azula nodded. "It's why I decided to stop. I didn't want to die, Sokka."

"I'm glad." He smiled.

At first she thought he was talking about Minho's death—maybe to some extent he was—and a fresh wave of fury came over her. Enough so that Sokka flinched. He was talking about her will to live, she realized and her will to get herself together. The twinge of rage fell away, leaving her feeling a cold sort of hollow. "He didn't have to die."

Sokka opened the door for her. The dusk air rushed past them. "Maybe not like that." Sokka replied. "I'm glad that's not how you'll go out."

"Yes, I plan to die on the battlefield." Azula declared uncaringly. It would be befitting and something of glory, or so she liked to hope.

Something crossed Sokka's expression. "She didn't have to die either."

"Suki?" Azula asked, already knowing the answer. "What happened to her, anyways?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Sokka grumbled.

Azula slanted her eyes. "I told you about Minho, now you tell me about Suki." It wasn't a request.

"It was a boat crash okay." He frowned one of the deepest frowns she'd ever seen. "Now drop it."

Azula pouted, wondering if she had been that difficult. The pettiest parts of her kind of hoped that she had been. The princess wasn't quite ready to let the subject drop yet, she didn't want to go back to thinking of Minho just yet. "A boat crash?"

"It was an accident." Sokka replied.

"Well that's hardly something you can control."

"You have no idea…"

"Then give me one." She rolled her eyes.

"No."

No. She had to laugh. How many times had she said that to him. "Okay." She'd let him keep his secrets for the time being. She'd get them eventually, when she had nothing else to do and no issues of her own to tackle. And tackle them she would; she was tired of running away and this time she had the strength and energy to stop. She would go back there—to the Ash Pit she decided, when the cravings subsided enough for her to trust herself to do so.


	31. Chapter 31

Things were quiet that morning. He hated the quiet, usually it indicated something sinister. Chan was do for another trip to the industrial park, they all were. But no one seemed to have the energy for it. Not after Wire. The boy's family had come to get him. Chan supposed that they should be happy for him, he was getting out of the pit, but now they were down another member and he didn't trust Wire's parents in the slightest. Not after all of the things Wire had said of them. Chan picked his way through his loot; he'd managed to snatch a shirt for Yoona whose own was becoming to tattered to wear, he got some shoes for Yoko, and he had brought some food with the remains of his cash. A spat with the Roka had depleted his funds almost entirely. Their little rag-tag gang was no match for the real deal, the kind of men who had no qualms about killing and stealing things that people would miss. If Chan wanted to get his gang—who was he fooling anymore—if he wanted to get his friends out of that miserable place he was either going to have to go headfirst into the pricklesnake's pit or he would need to up his selling game. Azula came to mind; he hoped with all of his soul that she would ask for another satchel soon so he could double the charge. And he felt like the lowest sort of miscreant for the desire. He needed to save them though, he had promised that he would change things for them. For all of them. At the rate things were going, Taeyul wouldn't live to see it. Something like a week prior, the boy had taken a rusty blade to the ribs courtesy of the Kuroi-Hi. The infection was spreading steadily and Chan could do nothing for it but take the edge off with a concoction called Badger Honey. Its popularity was rising almost as quickly as Ruby Tears. But that stuff was expensive to produce so he was reserving it only to get Taeyul through some of the longest, maybe some of the last nights of his life.

Needless to say, team morale was down. Bo-Rem hasn't spoken to him since he 'let' Wire get taken away. These days it seemed like she was trying to push him out of his own gang and Khoza was in full support. Yoko was also putting his vote in for a tougher leader. He had Boryuk on his side though—Yuk, his first partner in crime—kept his loyalty. He couldn't tell for the life of him where Yoona stood; though the shirt had earned him some favor, Chan had a sneaking suspicion that the girl was just waiting to see who came out on top to pick a side.

They were falling apart.

Chan whipped a rock at his shack, shattering the only intact window they had. He cursed endlessly. That, like everything else, was his own damn fault and he knew it. A gruff, "nice one, Chan" from Bo-Rem confirmed such.

He sighed and faced away from the shack, his little battered home. He missed his real home, he missed Ruon-Jian. He seated himself in front of their fire pit, it has been cool for six days now. No more drinks around the fire, these days they just drank to themselves or in pairs. He watched people pass in the distance, some in pairs others alone. A few in groups—friends or families he couldn't tell. They were just sad, sorry silhouettes. The same as he probably was to them. He heard Taeyul moan from within the shack and he gripped his hands over his ears. He tried with all of his might to suppress the dark urges. The idea that he should sneak into the tent and put his friend down. He didn't have long anyways. He cried out again, only reiterating the appeal of the notion. He got to his feet, metal glinting in his grasp. In the distance he could see two figures; were they distant enough not to hear, not to see? Chan couldn't be sure so he flung the knife down with an angry howl.

A good thing too, for the pair wasn't so distant anymore.

He didn't have a name for the Water Tribesman and it took him a heartbeat too long to place the name of his companion. Her hair was longer and silkier, she had put on some weight, her skin tone had become even and almost radiant, and her outfit—though very simple—was as well groomed as her nails. But she assessed him with familiar golden eyes. Clear, sharp, unclouded golden eyes. A faint smile tugged at her lips. "It has been a while, Chan."

.oOo.

The place looked broken…no, it looked broken before. Now it was in complete shambles. Azula wondered how long it has been in such a sorry state and just when it had started to get that way. Was it her absence or Minho's, possibly it could have been both.

She let him hug her, a strangely kind gesture. It was nothing like Sokka's embrace, it didn't hold the same level of care, almost as if it were done just for the sake of physical contact. He lingers long enough to make Sokka squirm and cringe. But not so long that Sokka could say anything.

"Who's that?" Chan eyeballed the man in question.

"This is Sokka." She replied, going off to stand next to him. She wasn't surprised to feel his arm wrap tightly around her middle. In fact, he made a point of doing so. "I figured I would bring him along for some sightseeing." More than that it was for the sake of shutting him up. Among other things he refused to accept that she could handle her own, it might have been that he knew she could but didn't want her to have to. She speculated that he was curious more than anything else and possessive when it came to Chan.

"What are you doing here?"

"Sightseeing." Azula smirked.

"Are you here for more Ruby Tears?" Chan asked, she detected a sort of hopefulness intermixed with a twinge of desperation. Sokka gripped her somewhat harder, the ghost of a snarl on his face. He really ought to calm down, and Azula hoped that she wouldn't have to make him.

"I haven used them in…"

"Ten weeks." Sokka filled in.

"I probably should have realized that." Chan rubbed the back of his head. The same hand came to brush across her cheek. She grasped his wrist and lowered it as Sokka stirred next to her. "I was upset when you took off…"

In the slam of wood on wood, Bo-Rem kicked the shack's door open and came stumbling out. "Why'd you leave us anyways, princess?" She sneered with all of the hatred she had exuded the day she'd fought her. Slowly the others gathered behind her. For some reason she still expected Minho to prance over with that stupid lopsided grin and greet her with a, 'hey pretty lady.' It filled her with a hollow, raw sort of guilt.

"Cause she got what she came for, Bo. She didn't need us anymore so she went back." Kohza replied simply.

"Is what them hinger borns do." Yoko added.

"We were just a pass time until you got it together, weren't we?" Boryuk questioned.

Azula began to speak, Bo-Rem—as per usual—had been waiting for that moment to cut in. "Well it looks like you did, so why are you back here? You want us to rough you up again?"

Again, Sokka snarled, he was a ticking timebomb. She gave him a quick and subtle shock, a tiny bolt that had him rubbing his elbow. In the meantime, she was being scrutinized. Every little bit of her and based upon their faces the judgments weren't ones of praise.

"How much did it cost to get that done?" Boryuk asked, pointing to her nails. "Bet we coulda helped Taeyul with that kinda cash. It ain't even look that good."

Azula furrowed her brows, "what happened to Taeyul?"

Instead of answering they continued to ridicule. Mostly petting things but with a few things that stung more. She kept her demeanor as passive as possible when Yoko scowled, "Ya left us for that?" He jabbed a finger at Sokka. "For a average piece of Water Tribe trash. One of them sea savages. Even we have standards here."

"I left for my own reasons."

"You missed getting pampered?" Boryuk filled in.

"We can all tell." Bo-Rem muttered. "Mind sharing some of that food with us?"

Another low blow. Azula had to admire the venom in Bo-Rem's voice and the nerve it took to speak to her like that. They were all itching for a reaction. Doing everything in their power to coax one out of her. For a second time with this lot, she found herself thankful for Ozai's harsh treatment. The verbal and physical lashings that helped her build such a calm façade. Then, it might not have been a false nonchalance at all; she'd said such dreadful things about herself until she grew numb to it. But Sokka, he was growing incrementally testier on her behalf—and for the sea savage comment. He was fuming to a level that matched the best firebenders. He was ridged which was never a good sign. He was holding back.

As Yoona ran dirty fingers through Azula's hair she babbled something akin to, "she smells nice…it's awful!" The girl always was awful with dishing out insults. Azula gave her props for the attempt.

Bo-Rem picked up where she lacked, "why did it look better when it was chopped up?"

At this point Chan spoke, it was something in her defense. But as it were, Bo-Rem seemed to have tossed any semblance of respect to the side and went off on him for being a spoiled high blood too. At least the focus was off of her, at least as far as Bo-Rem was concerned.

Unsurprisingly, Kohza was the one hitting home. Where Bo-Rem, Boryuk, and Yoko were hyper-focused on the physical, Kohza had a terrible onslaught of truths. "You're still selfish." He drawled. "You came here, had some fun while you waited for things to clear up at home, got your fix, and left us when things got bad."

"I think you and your highly intelligent detective squad have already established that." Azula hissed, finding it harder to curb her tongue. He was treading in deep waters and she had a decently powerful zigzag of lightning to send into that sea.

"It's your fault, you know? Minho died getting high enough to keep you entertained and then you just vanished. Back into the palace where you could pretend like it never happened. What was Minho to you? You didn't care about him at all, did you?"

That was a deeper slash, any charge she had sizzled out. He delivered a metal shock to match her own physical one. She wondered if it would be a bad time to take Chan up on his offer for the tears, they would keep her from her own. She shouldn't have come back, closure wasn't worth it. Sokka was mumbling something soft to her, but she could only hear Kohza.

"And the worst part is, you came back here for you. Not for us. You came here to ease your guilt, didn't you? You ran the minute Minho died, the minute things became real and you want us to tell you that it's okay."

He was right, wasn't he? That was mostly what was on her mind. She wasn't quite so different after all; she was still a liar, still conceited (but still somehow lacking self-esteem), still hateful…

Azula felt herself going numb again, it was the only shield she had left.

She had every desire to turn back the way she came. That would only prove him right wouldn't it? They had her cornered. So instead she took a seat and listened to Kohza prattle on and on about her selfishness with more commentary from the others on her appearance sprinkled in. With a hint of cynical amusement, she noted that they kind of reminded her of the vase she'd had various spats with. Just like with the voices in the vase, she had nothing to say in her defense. She wished that they would just throw fire—or in the case of Boryuk, rocks—and punches instead. The urge to huddle over and cup her hands tightly against her ears was overwhelming. It would be a weak move though, so she let the berating continue.

Sokka must have seen the lively glimmer in her eye, that had been there only moments before, fade. He snapped, throwing a pretty solid bone-crunching punch to Kohza's nose. Azula had forgotten that Bo-Rem was his lover until she rose, a solid wall of bulky muscle. Sokka faced her head on, raw anger alone gave him the upper hand. Azula felt strongly inclined to praise him for his strength and to add her own—a swift delivery of her wrath now that she mostly had some physical fight in her. But something wasn't right in Sokka. Every brutal blow, every furious look, something was horribly wrong. She recognized it, perhaps in the same way Zu-Zu had detected it on her so long ago. He was slamming his fist into the side of Bo-Rem's head, Azula could see her dim even duller than before.

"Sokka, you're going to kill her if you keep that up." Azula said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe I should! Maybe you should!"

"I don't want to." Azula replied simply. "And you don't want to either."

Sokka snarled at her.

"Now look at this, you've worked yourself into a rage." Azula rolled her eyes. It was the best she could do. She was afraid, maybe not of him.

But for him.

Among other things she would have to ask what this outburst was about. It wasn't about some slum-town trash talk. No, this was pent up rage that had found an outlet. "Let her go, Sokka." It took a considerable effort but she pried his hand away. She pinched the bridge of her nose and inwardly groaned. His display hadn't helped her case any, even Chan was staring at her like she was brining woe upon the all. "Sit down Sokka. Over there." She pointed a distance away.

"Don't tell me what to do!" He hollered.

"I will. And you will listen." Azula replied cooly, trailing her fingers over his very tense biceps. "Sit down and let me handle myself."

"You brought me here to protect you." It was almost a whine.

"I brought you here because you wanted to come, Sokka. I came here to sort out my problems on my own." Her own lax demeanor was a pleasant surprise. She watched Sokka sulk over to the makeshift chair where he began brooding silently—she would have to lift his spirits somehow later—before turning her attention back to Kohza and his bleeding nose.

He was relentless, "any you brought your water dog here to trash the place too—"

This time she cut him off. "And he wouldn't have done that if you would have held your uncivilized tongue. You know how to say just the wrong things don't you? How to push every button at the same time. I suppose I can't blame you, that's my favorite tactic." She shrugged.

Yoona snickered.

Yoona was her new favorite.

Kohza opened his mouth to protest but she left him no room. It was her turn. "The truth is, you want to be a noble. You wish that this," she motioned to herself, "could be you." She paused, letting it seep in. "I'm right, yes? You have such a sharp tongue, you're clever, you have potential. But you were born here, so it's all wasted, isn't it?" The way his eyes bugged and his mouth parted told him that she'd cut as deep as he had. "You want to be the one who can run back to the palace when things get tough. Don't tell me you wouldn't if you had the chance."

"Azula…" Chan tried in just the same way he'd tried to calm Bo-Rem. He had just as much success this time around.

"Don't." She held up her hand. "I'm not finished."

Kohza sneered. "What else do you have to say?"

"I'm glad you asked!" Azula spoke with a false cheeriness, she clapped her hands together. "I want to tell you another truth." She wandered closer to him.

"What's that?" He asked.

"Hmmm. That You're right, I did come here for myself, I suppose. To, I believe you said, 'ease my guilt.' You're right, I came here to do something like that. Because I did care about Minho." Her voice dropped warningly low, "you have no idea."

"I leaves ya." Yoona gave her input.

That made one person who did.

"What is she even saying!" Sokka threw his hands in the air.

"That she believes me."

"Is that what she actually said or is that what you want to hear?" She heard Sokka grumble. He seemed to hate the place more than she had on her first visit.

"Then why'd ya leave?" Boryuk asked.

"I thought you liked us." Bo-Rem added, "we a token for you."

Azula held up the trinket in question, she never had parted with it. Bo-Rem's face softened, it seemed that she took rejection as well as the princess herself. "I left because Kohza was right the first time too, I don't belong here. I came here and Minho ended up dead, so I left before anyone else could." Azula answered quietly. It was one of those things she didn't like to say out loud, one of those things she realized as she said it. "Of course, I also wanted to put some distance between myself and the situation…" she couldn't bring herself to finish; before it tore me apart.

"Well, someone did." Yoko spat. "Least, he's tryin' to."

Azula inquired again, "what happened to Taeyul?" She gave the camp another once-over. "And where's Wire?"

"Wire's parents took him home." Chan answered.

"Where's home?"

"Somewhere closer to your own." Chan replied. "He was a runaway. They found him, robbing from a cabbage merchant of all things."

"That guy is here too!?" Sokka sputtered incredulously. "I hate this place so much. I just—wow."

He left Azula wondering what he had against cabbage merchants. She shook her head, she had more important questions to press. "And Taeyul."

"Why don' ya take a look, princess." Yoko offered.

The inside of the shack was gloomy and smelled putrid, almost rotten. It smelled sickly. It was the unmistakable odor of death approaching. Taeyul was the source of the rot. Her infection had been pretty wicked, oozing a sort of nasty fluid. But his, his was weeping the stuff. She truly didn't mean to but she visibly had to hold back a retch. He was definitely in a state of passing, lingering all too closely to the spirit realm. He was dying an Ash Pit style death. His entire face had a sheen of sweat, his cheeks blotchy and tearstained. They already lost Minho and Wire. They truly were in such a sorry state, one more loss and they would go down. "Let me take him home with me."

"What!?" It wasn't just Chan and Yoko. The reply had come from Sokka too. And Bo-Rem. And Boryuk…and Khoza. Yoona was off in her own little Yoona world, wrapping her long untamed locks around her pointer. But Azula imagined that she'd have uttered it to had she been paying attention.

"Let me take him back to the palace, I know someone who can heal him."

"You want to bring him into the upper ring?" Chan asked.

"That's correct." Azula folded her arms over her chest. "Believe it or not, you idiots helped me. Now let me help you. This place is falling apart even Toph would be able to see that."

"You can't bring a person like Taeyul to a place like…like where we come from."

"Is that a challenge, Chan?" Azula quirked an eyebrow. "Alright fine, I like challenges. I'll bring all of you!" She didn't know whose jaw hit the floor first.

Sokka ambled up behind her and spoke in a tone filled with anger and amazement. "Did I ever tell you that I hate your surprises?"amazement. "Did I ever tell you that I hate your surprises?"


	32. Chapter 32

Azula had to laugh, at least to herself. She had left the Ash Pit with intentions to never go back and there she was brining it home with her. Fair was fair though, she had to deal with Sokka's stupid friends now he'd have to deal with her sketchy companions. "Just pick one already." She sighed at Bo-Rem.

"I don't like any of them." The girl grumbled. "And the one's I do are too small." She held up another shirt that had no room to accommodate her muscles. "Ya know what, I'm just going to check the men's section."

"What're we doin' here?" Yoko barked as he gestured about the marketplace. "Taeyul needs help 'n you need to fix yer priorities."

"I do have my priorities straight." Azula argued. "If you actually want to make it into the palace, you all are going to have to looked respectable." She looked at the sorry lot. "Or at least, presentable." Azula entertained herself by picking through a few articles of clothing. She looked up from it to see Yoko still loitering about. "The sooner you pick something, the sooner we can leave. He plucked something from a hanger without looking and handed it to her. "Are you sure that you want that one?"

Without looking at it he nodded.

"Alright, fine." She rolled her eyes. Whether he liked it or not, he would be wearing it. It was the most childish looking dress attire she'd ever seen in the men's section. Boryuk found something remotely quick, while Yoona was off in the back fumbling with a particularly elaborate, multipiece kimono. The girl had no idea how to wear it properly and was lost in a forest of fine fabric. "How about we try something a little easier." Azula suggested, leading her over to the once piece dresses.

"Why don't Taeyul have to do this?" Yoko complained.

Azula blinked, this question she wouldn't dignify with a response. Instead she turned to Kohza. He, unlike the rest of them, seemed to be relishing in the experience. This was part of the higher life he had been longing to part take in and was eagerly sifting through each robe he could spy. He seemed to love each and every one for a different reason. Which was almost as bad as detesting them all. He was taking just as long as Bo-Rem but for a completely opposite reason.

Chan, unaspiringly, picked out something with ease and took to glaring at Sokka who glared back; an unbreakable display of no-contact testosterone. Azula had an unweaving suspicion that Sokka had started this ridiculous staring contest. She made a point of directly standing in the incorporeal line their strong eye contact was creating. She could practically feel the tension beaming through her soul, but it was worth it to have ended their little pissing contest. "Chan, go help Kohza pick his favorite."

He shoved himself off of the shelf he had been leaning on and sulked over to Kohza.

"What about me, what do I get to do?" Sokka asked.

"You can keep an eye on Taeyul or go help Bo-Rem, your pick."

"Is, 'keep standing right over here' an option?" Sokka replied.

"It was until you asked for something to do." Azula shrugged.

She watched him—equally as cross as his newfound rival—make his way towards Taeyul. That left her, was there ever any doubt, to Bo-Rem. It took much longer than it should have, but at last Azula found something that Bo-Rem could tolerate. From there it was remotely easy. Despite so, the princess found herself growing antsy; she was itching to finally get back to her training. Bo-Rem's prior commentary might have hit a little closer to home than she was willing to admit. Even without, Azula missed going through the rigorous motions of firebending. With Zuko well on his way to Ember Island—she didn't believe that he actually would until the boat was actually on its way with him in it—there would be no hassle at all in getting the group into the palace. She was, after all, their temporary Fire Lord, if she wanted to bring in a bunch of shady ruffians, they'd have to let her. "Now, if everybody except Chan and Khoza keeps quiet, everything should go smoothly. Azula settled her gaze on Yoona and her constant stream of almost intangible babble. She went blissfully undaunted by Azula's stare.

"See that tree, Chan?" Sokka asked as he pointed to the dragon maple. "That's our spot, mine and Azula's. It has been for a while now."

"Good to finally be informed." Azula muttered.

"So?" Chan asked.

"So, you can't go under it."

"I don't want to go under your stupid tree!" Chan threw his hands up. "I don't even like trees!"

"Who doesn't like trees?" Sokka shouted. This was more pointless than any argument Azula had ever tried to start with him. She made sure to stomp it out before they finished crossing the courtyard. Once inside the palace they were greeted by Aang. It didn't take long for the other two to appear.

"Idiots of Sokka, meet my, probably bigger, idiots." Azula introduced. "I'll let you all get to know each other."

"I like her." Toph pointed at Bo-Rem.

"Wait, where are you going?" Sokka asked.

"I have to work on my firebending. I'm sure Chan can handle…"

"No he can't." Sokka whispered.

"You're right, he doesn't know who to ask." Azula resigned to wasting another few moments. "Katara, that's Taeyul. You can help him, yes?"

"I think that I can." She nodded. And after inspecting him for a few moments, backtracked some. "I hope that I can. He's…he's not in good shape."

"If you can help me, I'm sure you can help him." Azula assured.

"Azula, you were never that close to death."

Azula shuddered at the possibility that she was close at all and wondered exactly which time that had been.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Mind if I come train with you?" Chan asked.

The idea of him watching her when her skills were so rusty…so neglected sent a new kind of dread radiating through her. He was one of the few who still had a mostly polished, untainted version of her. No, she planned on training alone—her firebending was one area where everyone still had a pristine impression. If not, they had high expectations; not quite at the altitude of her own, but still high. "I train alone."

"Since when?" He asked.

Since you asked, the retort was on the tip of her tongue. "Since I decided that I need to focus." She waved her hand dismissively. "Besides, you have some bonding to do."

Chan looked reluctantly at the gang.

It didn't take long, not at all. In fact, she had taken only a few steps into the adjoining hall when she heard footsteps padding along behind her. Sokka had a very distinct step sound, heavy but in a soft sort of way that she couldn't explain with certainty. It might have been that he still liked to wear fur boots that suffocated the brunt of the noise. She knew it would drive Chan up the wall, but she let him tag along. Somehow she didn't really mind if he watched her fail miserably, he already has multiple times. "You can come along, but don't do anything distracting." She tossed back at him.

"I was just gonna grab my canvas and paint while you do you your fire thing." Sokka replied.

"I'll meet you there." She replied. While he split off to fetch his supplies from his room, she stopped for a change of clothes. Something with a lesser excess of sleeves. Something a little easier to move in and a little less flammable.

Azula began before Sokka arrived, a quick warmup that went relatively smoothly. She also worked through the first set of stances in her normal routine. A task that proved to her that her skills had been so horribly neglected. She supposed that she should be thankful; even at her lowest she could still probably get the better of the average firebender. But that wasn't good enough, not at all. The one thing she had prided herself for, she no longer had complete mastery over. She was slower, slightly off balance, her muscles weaker from such a prolonged lack of use. She was nearly frustrated to tears, these things should be coming naturally to her. But they weren't, she knew that she shouldn't have expected them too. And so it was that Sokka's sudden presence was once again uncomfortable and unwelcomed, no matter how much he'd already seen. She didn't want him to see her stumble, not at this.

"Why do you go paint outside?" She asked.

"I always paint outside." Sokka shrugged. "Besides, I want to watch you firebend. It always looked so…powerful. It'll be nice to see it without you trying to kill me while doing it."

"Say the wrong thing and I will definitely kill you, Sokka." Azula promised.

"Are you stalling?"

"What? No. I'm taking a break."

"Already?"

She sent a tiny bolt of lightning at his feet and he lifted his arms in surrender. "That's a good start, now keep that up." He grinned stupidly. Azula hated that goofy grin. She waited until he began fishing out his paints to resume her own task. At first, the firebender mostly dabbled with her lightning, she'd never truly lost her touch there. It brought a sense of comfort to know so. By the time she decided to go back to bending fire, Sokka was mostly engrossed in his art. Enough so that Azula felt less observed as she conjured up a whirling pinwheel of fire. This earned her a sharp, "hey careful, working with delicate material here."

"I'm sure your ego will hold up." Azula rolled her eyes. "Besides, it wasn't even close to you."

She moved onto something more elaborate, a form that involved a rapid barrage of fire and a few midair kicks. The first few went smoothly but she was tiring much faster than she would have liked. She paused for a minute or two and then resumed. In due time she found herself decently satisfied with that set and threw in something new; an old favorite technique. Something that required a bit of a running start. A running start that burst into a jump and brining her leg down in an arc of fire and then a repetition of the motion but instead of an arc she would go for a somersault of fire. This didn't go quite so smoothly. Her first arc was rather impressive, but the somersault ended with a harsh thud. One loud enough to catch Sokka's attention and add the first tinge of pink to her cheeks. She blew her bangs from her face and tried a second time. And a third, each seemed to be progressively getting worse. She found herself growing increasingly more embarrassed, and therefore, irritated with every blunder. She looked ridiculous. She tried for another somersault of flames, but she had put too much force into it, bringing her down without a scrap of grace. Azula stumbled to keep her balance. She could practically see her father leering at her. She tried it a third time, that one ending more tragically than the time before it. That time she hadn't even landed on her feet. Sokka's eyes seemed practically glued to her by then and she was making a fool of herself. By then her face was completely flushed with both humiliation and simmering agitation. She went for it once more, this time not even succeeding with the first arc.

"Hey, hey, calm down." Sokka spoke gently, he put his brush down. "You bend better when you're not angry. Isn't that why you were so good at firebending before? Because you were so calm."

Azula brushed her hair out of her face; when had it gotten so long? He had a solid point, but she couldn't bring herself to feel anything but exasperation, not when this should be coming so naturally to her.

"Here." He came to stand behind her, first massaging the tension out of her shoulders and then out of her back. After doing so, he lifted her arm and extended it, mimicking the stances he'd so often seen her utilize. Some time into it she took the lead and let him follow her through the motions. His hold restricted her from producing any fire at all. Though it was about structure at that point, structure and stance. She could incorporate fire again later. For the time being, Azula was content with the intimacy. Content with his interest in bending with her, even if he could ever hope to produce a spark. She could feel his muscles rippling and contorting against her back. Could smell the tinge of sea-salt on his body. He must have recently taken a saltwater bath. He borrowed her pine soap, from the smell of it. His aroma soothed her some. And then he let go, his touch lingering only for one more brief moment.

.oOo.

Upon leaving her side, Azula added fire to the movements that they had just worked through. Her movements were simpler, less bold than he recalled. Speed seemed to be sidelined for perfecting the motions themselves. But she was as elegant as he was used to, despite the occasional falter. She was frighteningly powerful as ever and he hoped that she knew that. He watched slid from one stance to the next in fluid motions. She seemed more relaxed. Sokka couldn't bring himself to pick up the brush again, he'd rather watch the real Azula.

Perhaps he would join her some time, his swordsmanship was getting a bit rusty and he wouldn't mind making a few slashes and slices, especially after spying some of the expensive training equipment scattered about the room.

After some time had gone by, she tried for the somersaults again, her landings were still shaky or on her back altogether. He feared that she was hurting herself and wondered how many bruises would line the length of her back. She seemed undaunted by that though. By the end of it all, she was a little red faced and breathing hard.

He had to admire her dedication.

.oOo.

Sokka extended a hand and pulled her up. "You've been at this for hours now, I think it's time to call it a night."

Azula wanted to protest, but even she knew there was no sense in draining herself on the first day. She hadn't even trained that relentlessly during her prime. Hesitantly she let him lead her back to the springs so she could freshen herself up. She was a bit of a wreck but she didn't need to look the part.

A quick sweep of the dinner table confirmed that everyone still had yet to warm up to one another. Toph and Bo-Rem were the oddities, they connected right away. Not that Azula hadn't predicted such. Bo-Rem was speaking fondly of The Rumble and Toph was insisting that she should part take. Listening to all of the awkward and forced conversation, Azula couldn't wait to add dear Zu-Zu to the mix. The look on his face would be precious.

This became a sort of routine. In between checking on Teayul and keeping tabs on both groups of idiots, the princess would retreat to go through her techniques. Eventually her touch would have come back to her, she supposed that she just needed to get used to going through the motions again. Sokka was always there working on either the painting of her. Eventually that came to a halt, in a fit of annoyance—during a particularly taxing firebending form—Azula carelessly kicked a ball of sapphire flame in Sokka's direction. It both had him facedown on the ground after a spectacularly dramatic dive and nearly scorched the canvas. After dusting himself off Sokka cradled his portrait as if it were some precious gem. After that he wouldn't let her near it at all claiming that such dangerous activities did not create a safe and healthy environment for a growing portrait. He no longer brought that canvas into the training room, instead he would bring a simple brush and ink and would create careless doodles. Sometimes she would pause her own training and watch him draw until she felt ready to begin again.

The days had a new sense of normalcy to them.

And on most of them the Ruby Tears hadn't crossed her mind.


	33. Chapter 33

Azula shivered, overcome by sensations she hadn't had in such a long while. The walls seemed to pulse and in colors they shouldn't. Azula wrapped her arms around herself and curled up on the bed. She didn't understand, was she losing it again? She stared at the walls hoping that they would solidify once again. She jabbed Sokka in the back—as per usual the man proved to be a heavy sleeper. She took in a deep breath and tried to ignore the pulsating. That was easy enough to ignore on its own but joined by a light rain of feathers, she was shuddering all over.

It was something that happened on occasions, she would suddenly be bombarded with past sensations. Apparently it was an uncanny side effect of abusing the tears for so long—if the mood was right, if she was given a strong enough reminder, she would find herself reliving an old trip. Usually it would come with her own hallucinations, the ones she's always had.

Sokka flopped over, his hand coming down over her arm. She clung to it, trying to drown out that which wasn't there. She focused on the warmth of his hand, on his rhythmic breathing, on his chiseled bare chest. The latter seemed to help the most, so she pressed her head against it and listen to his heart beating beneath. It overpowered the other pulsing. He was rather warm. And in sleep, he looked rather adorable; his facial features so calm and relaxed. It calmed her.

.oOo.

Sokka woke to find the princess sprawled out on top of him, she was still sleeping and quite deeply at that. He didn't have the heart to wake her. In her sleep she was mumbling something about dragons or being a dragon, he couldn't quite make it out. But whatever the dream, she seemed happy. He brushed his fingers over the back of her neck and in between her shoulder blades, eliciting a sleepily mumbled, "stop touching my wings." He continued trailing his fingers regardless, but she didn't speak anymore until waking. He handed her a cup of tea that she accepted quite eagerly. He figured that he should start getting dressed because she would have her breakfast and then immediately request that he join her as she trained. Why she felt inclined to do so, so early in the morning, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to keep her from it. He didn't mind the opportunity to work on his swordsmanship.

Taeyul was a surprise presence in the room when Sokka arrived. The boy seemed to be doing much better, comparatively speaking; he was awake again and walking. He heard only the tail end of their conversation, something that consisted of thanking Azula for saving him from a near death. The boy hugged Azula, very quick, but it was still enough to bother him. Why did so many people like touching Azula? He noisily drew his sword, in turn catching Azula's attention. "You can sit over there." She pointed before walking over to Sokka.

"What's he doing here?" Sokka asked.

"He was just stopping by to let me know how he is doing." Azula replied nonchalantly. Catching the skeptical look in his eye, she added, "he'll be leaving to talk to Katara soon, relax." He could tell that he was annoying her. Was he being too clingy? But he had to be, why would Azula bother with him when there were people more like her?

She didn't seem to notice his inner turmoil, lost in her own stances. He slashed his sword a few times, half-heartedly. She was growing distant again, she seemed to talk to him less, especially with more people in the palace to talk to instead. People she seemed to like more. Again, he found himself angry that he had helped her; he'd done so much for her and she was blowing him off. He should have let her take the tears. His sword came down with a furious velocity. He looked away from it to see Azula create a somersault of fire. She seemed entirely self-satisfied. Sokka made another cut at the air as the princess moved onto something new. He swung his sword in sweeping arcs of his own with an occasional twirl. He wasn't as rusty as he had thought and was working through his old routines with surprising ease. At some point he had gotten so far into it that he didn't notice Azula helping Taeyul up and over to Katara's side. The pair had left, leaving him alone with the firebender. He had a good flow going when she called him, pulling him out of it completely. "What?" He snapped.

Unfazed by the outburst, Azula answered, "I was hoping you could help me out again." She ended it with a wink.

"You seem to be doing fine on your own." He muttered.

Her coy smile faded, "what's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem." Sokka grumbled.

Azula quirked an eyebrow.

"I don't." He persisted.

"Then why did you attack Kohza?"

"He was being an asshole!" Sokka was taken aback by the question and twice as flabbergasted by the response to follow.

"So breaking his nose was justified?" She replied. "He can say what he wants, I doesn't bother me."

"But it did." Sokka insisted. "I bothered you a lot."

"We're not talking about me right now." Azula wasn't going to let him off easy this time. "We're talking about you going overboard."

Sokka threw his sword down. "I'm going overboard? You—"

"We're not talking about me." Hints of annoyance broke through her filter. "Why are you so angry? Did I do something?"

Did she? He didn't know how to answer that. For as confident as he was before, that she had been putting him to the side, he felt unsure. She had friends, that was a good thing, that was what he had wanted for her all along. "Why have you been ignoring me?"

Azula's face scrunched up. "I haven't.

"Oh? Because I've had plenty of time to think lately. I only do that when I'm alone."

"Then talk to Toph or Aang, or Katara. I can't be around you all the time. I have to make sure Taeyul is okay. I also have to make sure the rest of them adjust well. Do you know how hard it is to keep Yoona and Yoko out of trouble? Yoko has been sizing up all of the guards—I think he's trying to get a job. Xanu is doing everything he can to make sure he doesn't. And Yoona is completely oblivious. She has gotten lost in the palace three times now and I haven't seen her since last night so I think it's safe to say she's lost right now and I should probably send Aang to find her."

"I was around you all the time, putting up with all of your…needs."

"I didn't ask you to do that." Azula frowned. He barely heard her add, "not a first." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Besides, you haven't asked me to come by you. You've just been sulking and complaining…and generally making Zu-Zu look cheerful."

He opened his mouth and closed it twice over.

"And whenever I ask you what's wrong," she mimicked him telling her that he didn't have a problem. "You aren't giving me much to work with, now are you."

Sokka groaned to himself, rubbing at his face. He didn't want to argue with her, mostly because she always seemed to win, but also because he didn't want to upset her. Agni forbid she went to Chan for comfort or something.

"So stop complaining and tell me what's wrong."

"I did. You keep blowing me off."

"You have other friends. You can borrow one of my idiots if you want!" Azula pointed out. "Now why don't you tell me what's really wrong? Why don't you tell me, why you called me Suki awhile ago?"

Sokka gave an audible gasp. She wasn't supposed to have remembered that. In fact, he assumed that she had long forgotten about it. That she hadn't heard him at all. He didn't even remember vocalizing it, he must have let it slip in his daze. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I had a seizure and…"

"I don't know what you're talking about" he repeated.

In just the way he had expected them to, her eyes narrowed. "You do and you know it." She sat down. "What. Happened. To Suki?"

He wasn't like her. He wasn't like Azula. His problems were his own and he wasn't going to force them on someone else. He was marching down the hall before he could comprehend that his legs were moving. He shook his head, there he went again, getting mad at the princess for needing support. He didn't understand it; why was he faulting her for having pestered him when he enjoyed helping her? And after he just complained that she wasn't taking up his time anymore.

He wanted a place to let out his frustrations—a verbal punching bag of sorts—he realized with a sense of dread. And it was Azula. Azula who could probably handle it. Azula who he loved with everything he had left. Azula who truly didn't need one more person slinging accusations and harsh words at her.

.oOo.

Sokka, and his blatant contradictions, left her wondering how to handle him. He was hassling her for asking and utilizing his help while scolding her for not taking up enough of his time. At least her needs had been clear cut. Azula herself, was growing irked, even she hadn't been so tight lipped. He was just as hushed about his secrets as she was during the eclipse, briefly she thought of pinning him to the wall and demanding answers. She was getting nowhere and nothing agitated her more than a very clear lack of progress.

"Sokka being difficult?" Chan asked.

"Don't worry about it." She muttered. "How are the others handling it here?"

"Well Kohza is having a great time. Everyone else is a little confused."

She wasn't surprised to hear it.

"You seem tense." He noted.

"No more than usual." Azula shrugged. His hands were on her shoulders, massaging them. She found that he didn't satisfy her like Sokka did, he lacked passion. Or maybe it was she who lacked it, she wished that he would take a hint. He and Sokka had that in common, they required blunt commentary. Even so, she simply shrugged him off. "Have you seen Yoona anywhere?"

"Come to think of it, I haven't." Chan replied.

"You look for her on the lower floors, I'll look for her on the upper." Azula said. She wanted to be alone, to think things through and come up with some way or another to get Sokka to talk. She knew that he had lost Suki in a boat accident. But that was all he'd given her; it didn't explain his sudden splurges of jealousy. As she made her way up another flight of stairs, calling out softly too Yoona, she connected two pieces. He had called her Suki because in that moment she was. In her own distressed, limp body, he had probably seen Suki. She wondered how close that was to her own hallucinations or if it was even on the same scroll as her problems. She rounded the corner and called to Yoona again. He had been very afraid of losing her the way he lost Suki. It would explain why he was so quick to go off on Khoza. But it didn't explain why he was so easily angered by her. She sniffed to herself in annoyance, the Water Tribesman was such a ridiculous pain with moods that flared up and came down like ground under the influence of an earthbender. Azula could barely deal with her own turbulent moods, how was she supposed to deal with his?

She found Yoona staring at a large portrait of her, one that had been painted before the comet. It had been professionally done, and when she was at a high point in her life. But she still liked Sokka's more. Yoona stoked the portrait. "Purtty." She peered at Azula seeming to compare the two. It made her wonder if she still bore any resemblance to the woman in the painting. "You?" Yoona asked, pointing at it.

Azula confirmed, "me."


	34. Chapter 34

Sokka decided that he would try to distance himself from the princess for the rest of the night. With the fear that he had angered her potent in his mind, he might evade her for a few days. If he hadn't he didn't want to risk it. It seemed to him that he had a whole list of reasons to avoid her, for if angering her wasn't an issue, he didn't want to sour her mood with his own. And if that wasn't the case, he didn't want to expose himself to more prying. Azula was relentlessly persistent and mercilessly curious. He had peeked her interest too much and—short of spilling his problems—he didn't know how to get it to fade. He kept telling himself that she had her own problems, but deep down, even he knew that he was just too afraid to speak them.

So when he saw her in the hallway, sitting with that Yoona girl, he didn't ask.

He thought that he should have.

Especially after realizing what they had been looking at.

.oOo.

Yoona kept her eyes on the portrait, only tearing them away to look the real Azula over. "You…" she spoke slowly, "looo-look" it was drawn out as she fumbled over how to pronounce it. "difront?"

"Different." Azula corrected. Between she and the tutor, she had hired, Yoona's speech seemed to be improving if only a little.

"You look dirent?"

Azula corrected her once more.

Narrowing her eyes, Yoon tried again, "you look different."

Azula followed Yoona's eyes to the portrait. To the refined, perfected image of herself. Her painted eyes were fierce. But the painter had managed to capture something else, a sort of blank unfeelingness. She had been miserable even then, she had enough unfiltered luxury and false praise to keep her from realizing it. She decided then, that Zuko might have been the lucky one—at least fate had been up front with him. He knew he'd been dealt a nasty deck, she thought she had all of the winning cards…

"Different, good?"

Azula didn't answer, she hadn't yet decided if different was good. She took a seat and Yoona mimicked the action. Her hair was nearly at it's old length, but instead of her top knot, she had fashioned only some of it into a bun, leaving the rest loose. That was one difference. A second contrast was her demeanor, it was so rigid in that painting; she recalled (and not fondly) how her back had begun to ache after standing so still for so long. Her position in present was lax, almost comfortable. She recognized subtly, that this was something that wasn't just a trait of the painting. In the year that it was painted she would sit uncomfortably erect and stand in such a way until her bending required flexibility. It was another bravado. Another way to make herself as bold and commanding as possible, and it had bled into her personal life…into her alone time. She set her head against the wall and faced the ceiling for a moment. She had no one to impress at the time, no one to intimidate, so she sat passively. She figured that the separation between her regal demeanor and her casual one, was a good thing. A third realization was more jarring in some way—another thing that startled her as much as it comforted her. Her figure was different; with her firebending back in her regular routine she was dropping much of the weight the withdrawal had given her, but her chest remained fuller and her hips some wider. She was taller too, if only a little. Her cheekbones had become more defined. All together it seemed to set it in stone, that she was no longer a child.

No longer the child her father had forced her to be.

And she wouldn't become the sort of adult he had tried so desperately to mold her into.

The sixth thing that differed from the portrait were her arms and the slashes that so precisely and so deliberately lined them. In the portrait her arms were smooth and deceitfully unabused. The child in the painting couldn't afford to have scars marring her wrists. She wondered if marred was the right term. She had always been fond of battle and of victory. She would have been—she still would be—proud to bare the scars of war. Absently, she traced her pointer along the raised skin. It had been a battle of sorts and she had won.

Yoona stepped into her view stroking the portrait again. Azula shuddered, the girl was making things awkward. "stop that." Yonna silently obeyed but took to stroking Azula's real cheek instead. "That's not better, Yoona." So Yoona took her hand instead, gently brushing over the scars with a look of puzzlement.

"What huppund tos yer arm?" Was her first question, followed up immediately by, "who dun it? I show 'em reul good laceon." She lifted her fists.

Azula apricated the gesture. "I did it Yoona." She pushed the girl's enthusiastic fists down. "I'd rather you not…teach me a lesson."

Yoona frowned, her confusion seemed to double. "You fighted yerself?"

"I guess you can say that."

"Why fer? Did you fighted you?"

"Because I had to, I suppose." Azula replied.

"Who winned?"

Azula rolled her eyes but a smile threatened to break across her lips. "I did, of course."

Such a victory gave rise to a seventh difference between she and the portrait.

The paint seemed to immortalize a great many things in that longtime displayed. Potent sorrow and pain were two of them. A heavy sort of oppression lingered into the painted shadows. The shadows that may as well have been her father's influence. Her eyes in that portrait, those fierce and distant eyes. A smile that held much pride and plenty of dignity, but not a hint of joy.

Those things were all missing. Among the casualties were a large chunk of that dignity and an even greater portion of pride. But the somber undertones captured in her eyes, the shadows, those were gone too. And for the first time she decided that the exchange was worth it.

Azula's eyes were every bit as vibrantly fierce, but they were somehow softer, lacking the hateful gleam she had been primed to display. The smile that she finally allowed to slip across her face, was real. It had to be as everything clicked into place; She was free of that dreadful man, of the tears, and of many things that had led her to take them in the first place. She was free of the feelings, the simmering sense of self-loathing—no doubt Sokka's doing, Minho's and Chan's too, but mostly Sokka's. Yoon's odd flattery was a decent help as well. She had family—some family anyhow—friends…a lover. For what it was worth she had the throne too, at least for the time being.

She felt lighter.

Something she didn't know that she wanted to feel until everything set in.

The introspection she had so feared was interrupted by Yoona. Like that, she realized that she didn't mind the heavy contemplation and was almost annoyed by the girl's sudden babble. She ignored it for just another moment.

The seventh difference, Azula decided to herself, was the one that mattered the most.

"You kay? It ain't herting are it?" Yoona poked at the scars, eyes widening when she realized that if she was correct in her assumption, jabbing would make the princess hurt more. "Are you fight yerself gen?"

And so Azula noticed that her cheeks were damp.

"No." She replied.

Yoona cocked her head.

"I'm doing well Yoona."

"Then why is yer eyes leaks?"

"Because it stopped hurting." Azula spoke quietly, leaving her companion even more befuddled than before she had asked. Maybe she would enlighten her one day, but Yoona, despite it all, despite everything the Ash Pit had given and took from her, was so innocent. Azula would let her keep that. She'd already poured her problems onto one person, and that one person needed the favor returned.


	35. Chapter 35

He came across it by chance alone and it crushed him.

Crushed him and reminded him that he'd never healed at all.

He'd only fooled himself into thinking that he was okay.

Sokka emerged from his room two hours after finding it. It had given him too much to think about and he had to get away from his thoughts. He had slept in just long enough to miss the gang, both of the gangs. He couldn't muster up the energy to search for them. Odds are they were in the gardens like usual, but he didn't much feel like going out there. It was too mockingly sunny and warm and he wasn't feeling an ounce of cheer. He stared into his cup of banana juice for a solid four minutes before deciding that he might as well drink it. It was constantly on his mind now that he didn't have Azula's problems to outshine his own. Again, and selfishly, he wished that she hadn't gotten better. He scowled at himself…at his mind; how could it be coming up with so many reasons to wish her unwell. If this was how he thought of people he cared for…

He shuddered to think of how he thought of people he detested.

He really ought to talk to Aang. The air nomad always seemed to have the best advice, and he could use the Avatar's lack of aggression. He pushed his chair in with every intention of speaking with Aang but one glance out of the window shot that plan straight to the spirit world. Azula was chatting it up with Chan. It shouldn't have bothered him, he knew it shouldn't have, especially since Taeyul and Khoza were part of the conversation. But it didn't matter, all he saw was Azula, laughing at something Chan had said. Or so he assumed, it very well could have been a remark from Khoza. Even so, as far as he was concerned she was laughing at Chan's joke. She should be laughing at his jokes, not that he was in the comedy business anymore. As her face lit up further, Sokka's own mood dropped lower. Of course he wasn't good enough for her. He knew that much from the start. But he was always good enough for Suki. He was good enough for Yue, and his mother, and everyone else who really, truly loved him. He made a decision then—that he would let Chan just have her. Sure, he had Azula for the moment, but in some way or another she'd be gone too, so he wouldn't allow himself to get too attached. So he might as well just let her go himself. He stared out the window long enough to see Chan drape his arm over the princess' neck but not long enough to see her toss it off and elbow him in the gut. He'd seen enough for one day, if Azula wanted to talk to him she could come to him. The same with Aang…with all of them. If they cared, they would initiate the conversation.

Sokka wandered back to his room where his finding still lie upon his bed where he had left it. He tried to ignore it, fishing out his canvas instead. He had already finished his latest portrait of Azula so he didn't have that distraction. Though he didn't much feel like painting her anyhow, at least not then, not with visions of Chan's arm around her still fresh in his mind. He found himself growing frighteningly angry again. Some days ago, a faint feeling of betrayal rooted itself in his heart and was beginning to sprout. Upon seeing she and Chan it began to blossom. Suki wouldn't have done that to him, if anything he was the one in that relationship who was more likely to get promiscuous.

He cringed again, no matter who the romantic partner was, he was still the bad guy. And Suki probably saw that. Saw it and was ready to leave him, the only thing keeping her around was the baby. His baby. The baby that never had a chance because he had pushed Suki away.

His mind wandered more, maybe he was pushing Azula away too. He wasn't making it very tricky for her to elope with Chan. She was never one to let herself be cast aside and if he couldn't be fucked to pay attention to her, then she would seek the spotlight elsewhere. His stomach churned with anger and confusion. Was he blaming her or himself? Was he mad at her or was he mad at himself?

Was he furious with her because he was furious with himself?

He knew for sure that he was afraid of himself, especially with the fury rising again. He was horrified at his potent urge to storm outside and cause a scene. It was the same kind of impulsive urge that had him throwing Azula onto her bed instead of something less rash like throwing the Ruby Tears out of her reach. Again his thoughts went to Suki. Was that how he had treated her? Was she afraid of him? For the first time he wondered if he had ever hurt her. Truly hurt her. He hurt Katara before. Sokka gave a long groan and rubbed his temples. He just hurt everyone around him. So maybe it would be better if he shut himself away from everyone.

Somewhere deep and dark within, he was glad Suki was gone. Glad the baby was gone with her. They were safe from him. They wouldn't have to deal with him.

He made his way to his bed and retrieved what he had come across that morning. Laying on his back, he held the picture in his hand and stared at it. The image of he and Suki, painted right after she had proposed to him. Her smile was huge, her eyes glowing and teeming with hope and affection. She held him so close and so lovingly in a way that Azula didn't. In a way that he couldn't imagine the princess being capable of. He would never be held like that again. In that particular image, his eyes were just as bright as hers. They had a gleam that overflowed with optimism and care. He must have drained it all from himself in that moment, because there was none left. All that was left was a sense of almost unchecked grief and anger.

He ripped the taunting picture to shreds.


	36. Chapter 36

Sokka thought about joining Azula as she trained but he wasn't in the mood for another bombardment of questions. As of late, he would wait until the princess was asleep before joining her. She would wake and he would pretend to sleep. On a few days she would trail her fingers up and down his up turned arm, waiting for him to awaken. He could always outlast her though, she always had something to be doing and wouldn't wait too long for him to get up. If she was getting tired of it she hadn't said anything. It might have been that she was busy 'civilizing' her friends but her mind seemed to be elsewhere and if he passed by her at the right time he would see her staring out the window with a grim expression. He couldn't possibly fathom what had Azula so high-strung on this occasion. So he assumed that she must be growing aggravated with his lack of affection. And he caved. With as much reluctance as he could possibly have, Sokka sauntered into the room, ducking under a burning wave of blue. He held his hands up in surrender.

"When did you get here?" The princess questioned.

"Just now."

"Right." She replied, "sorry for almost hitting you, I didn't notice you."

"It's alright, I—"

She cut him off, "I mean, you haven't joined me in days, it is hard to notice someone when you aren't expecting any company." She didn't turn to face him, didn't so much as put a halt on her stances. "I suppose I'm not as entertaining when I'm not helpless."

"That's not…that isn't why I've…" He sputtered. He should have known that Azula, stable or not, wouldn't take well to being slighted.

"That's alright, Sokka, I have other people to talk to so you can go do…whatever it is that's so important to you."

"I haven't been doing anything important." Sokka sighed. "I just wanted to be alone."

At last the princess put a pause to her routine and spared him a glance. "Why?"

She already had questions. He almost wished that she would lose the speckle of sympathy that reached her eyes and go back to chastising him. Mostly, he wanted to tell her that her unending stream of questions had a lot to do with it. He'd just taken the edge off of her annoyance though, and he didn't want to bring it back. "I've been in a bad mood and you seem like you're doing better so I didn't want to bother you."

"Well you did."

"You want to listen to me complain?" He asked.

"If it would lead to you telling me why you called me Suki, sure." She was as merciless as he remembered. "Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I told you to complain; isn't that what talking about your problems is?"

Sokka rubbed the back of his head, "venting sounds much better don't you think?"

"Venting, complaining, who cares what you call it. I told you to do something and you didn't do it."

"You can't make someone tell you about their problems."

"You made me?" By now she had dropped her stances completely, wholly invested in the squabble.

"The cactus juice made you. I just so happened to be there and willing to listen."

Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe so, but I also remember you asking me what was wrong. Over and over again." With a shrug she added, "but I can find you some cactus juice if it will help you start talking." He didn't realize that he missed her devious smirk until it was crossing her lips.

He still wasn't in the mood for it. "I don't want to talk and I don't want cactus juice. That's your thing."

"Was my thing." She resumed her firebending, but with less focus on it. After a few minutes of pretending to be highly invested in it, the princess turned to him again. "Well?"

"Well what? Do you want another congratulations?"

Azula paused again to stare at him as if her were completely dull in the head and it sparked a prickle of annoyance. "I want to know why you've been avoiding everyone."

"I'm not."

She wouldn't even venerate that kind of obvious untruth. She held her silence until it became oppressive. He felt that spark of anger kindle some. "Don't worry about it." He grumbled. "It isn't your problem."

Azula shrugged. "You're right, it isn't."

And that was it. He expected a fight. Suddenly he wanted her to pry some more, just to show him that she cared enough.

"Are we done here?" She asked.

Sokka blinked at her. "That's it? You're done trying to get answers."

"I know when my time can be better spent." She hummed to herself. His temper was like the fire she was wielding. It was no wonder she could flare it so fast.

"I didn't give up on you!"

"You let me think that you did on numerous occasions. Anyhow," she yawned, "you said that you didn't want to talk, so don't. I really don't care."

.oOo.

The princess had played a great many mind games in her lifetime, she knew when one was being played with her and she was going to win it. If Sokka wanted to be difficult she would let him and she wouldn't engage, lest he drive her to the cactus juice again. She already had a few things of her own that needed to be taken care of. Sokka's constant evasion of her made it so easy to isolate herself and ponder. Ponder and dwell upon what it would be like to see her mother again. Her mind almost meandered to it again, but this time he was there to pull her attention.

"Because you only care about you?" He asked.

Azula rolled her eyes. "Yes, sure, Sokka. If you say so. Speaking of which, I should probably see how Taeyul is doing." And to drive the point in she added a quick, "Not that I really care about him or anything, because I only care about myself." She watched Sokka's lip twitch, a telltale sign that she was striking various nerves. But if he wanted to make a nuisance of himself, she would return the favor in either full or double.

"Fine, I didn't want to talk to you anyways!" Sokka snarled. Azula considered then, that he was being so difficult because he didn't even know what he wanted.

"Well then I'm sure you happened upon me completely by chance. It isn't as though I practice here every day at around the same time." She flicked her bangs and looked over her shoulder. "Go on then, go back to your room and shred another portrait if it makes you feel better." This time she didn't know which nerve she had struck, but whichever one it was, she hadn't meant to cut that deep. Apparently was a wildly low blow for his demeanor changed entirely and to something she had to tread carefully with. It was the same tense stance with the same startling gleam that she'd seen on him before he knocked Khoza a good one. "Relax, I'm sure you'd have a good time painting a new one, yes. I'll even let you pick the outfit this time." She tried to play it off as a joke, that usually worked with him.

His expression changed none, his eyes fixed heavily on her. He was breathing heavily, his hands clenched tightly. Whatever anger he had been bottling up was now simmering on the surface, radiating off of him in such a way that it was almost a tangible force. For the first time she realized that his problem might be more server than she had anticipated. This time, another first, she didn't know how to place her words. She had an unsettling feeling that nothing she said would do her any good. She sensed on him all of the fury and hurt she had come to know so well. That was how she knew how their discussion was going to end.

It surprised her all the same.

"All I wanted was your help." He yelled. He closed the distance between them alarmingly quick and in the same move, gave her a rough shove. She heaved herself up with a blast of flame, using the momentum to retaliate.

She ducked under a few blind sweeps of his hand. Eventually one found her middle and had her on her back at a loss for air. Her own patience, having finally been tested to its limit, fell away. In that moment she had no qualms about stealing a move or two from Zuko. From her spot on the ground she kicked a circle of flame. Sokka dodged out of the way allowing her time to get to her feet. Her counterattacks were only driving him deeper under, but she wasn't content to just play defense. He tried for another blow, catching her on the arm, but leaving an opening for her to hook her leg around his ankle and knock him to the floor. Lightning crackled on her finger tips as she glowered down at him. With an almost animalistic howl he threw himself up right and stormed towards the door—the only wise decision he had made that morning, if she said so anyhow. As he left she called out, "thanks for helping me with my training!"

It was the only thing that kept her from weeping right then and there.

.oOo.

Somewhere in the very backmost recesses of his mind, Sokka wished he would have just answered her questions. Wished he would have just let her care for him. That same part of him knew that he—for as timid as his entry—had sought Azula out, looking for a fight. And that part of him was horrified.

But that part of him was not the part that had control.

It wouldn't be in control for at least a few more hours. Until then he held all the fury of a incensed wolf. That same fury had him pushing past Katara with more force then necessary. He looked back to see unease…no, it was fear, in her eyes.

But he didn't pack his anger away.

He couldn't if he wanted to.

Not when he didn't know where it came from in the first place.


	37. Chapter 37

It was several hours after and the anger was still potent. Azula had concluded with herself that Sokka only liked her when she was venerable, when she could make him feel useful. That he only loved her when she wasn't herself. She ran her fingers through her hair, working out a few tangles and kinks. That was twice that he had struck her, and once on purpose. For as angry as she was, she was also, in a sense, humored. It was supposed to be she who initiated physical spats and she who deteriorated their relationship with them. It had always been her, she felt more comfortable when it was her.

She shed her armor and exchanged it for something more comfortable. She trailed her finger over a patch of yellow-purple on her stomach. Just above the bruise was a barely visible prick mark where the clasp of her belt had nicked the skin. She combed her way through her vanity drawer until she came upon a container of ointment. It was cool on her skin in a vaguely uncomfortable way that had her reflexively clenching her middle. As she rubbed it in and dressed the injury, she wondered if it was even worth discussing with anyone else. It seemed like such a trivial issue, did she want to make a spectacle of it? She supposed it was a matter of whether or not she wanted to put a bigger rift between Sokka and his friends. Some time ago the very notion would have put a devious smirk on her face. But she was tired. Tired of tension, tired of causing it. The princess just wanted a moment of peace. It would seem that even when she sorted herself out something would come along to cause her another struggle. No, she didn't want to start a new kind of drama, especially not when she already had to worry about her mother.

Azula would keep her secrets.

They didn't have to know. She could take care of herself.

Even so, she had to shudder, unable to keep herself from thinking about the deeper implications. Of how things would have gone over if she were still on the Ruby Tears. She might have just let him rage at her. And perhaps she should have, after all of the times she'd hit him around.

With one last look at the forming bruise, she pulled her shirt down and smoothed the cloth.

.oOo.

Sokka held his head in his hands, he had been sitting that way for some time, thinking and dwelling. What had he become and when had he become it? Was it after Suki had died or was it something that was always there. Something that the war had granted him.

The scene unfolded in his mind; shoving Azula, punching her, landing her on the ground, just generally burdening the woman. And the looks she'd given him, shock and hurt dashed with what could only be wild loathing. He hadn't seen her that pissed since the first time he had hurt her, and that time had been an accident. It didn't take much speculation to concluded that was wasn't going to put up with it for much longer—or, perhaps, at all. He never thought of himself as the abusive sort but in that moment, it was all he could think and he wondered again, if he had always been that way. He shuddered to himself, wondering how things would have unfolded if Azula hadn't fought back. Would he have found it in him to realize that he was out of line? Or would he have kept on wailing on her until he felt the anger exit him. He shook harder, only a few weeks before, Azula might have taken his wrath. The visuals in his mind were so invasive. Sokka couldn't stop himself from picturing the princess as she was months ago—a broken woman, maybe drunk, taking his abuse because she was too unstable to do anything else. He could see her with her lip split and swollen, looking up at him with solemn, tired, and pleading eyes. So terribly thin and so easy to break. Through her drunk daze, both aware and oblivious to what was happening to her. She would have been alone too, with no one to tell of how she'd been hurt.

And the worst of it—he concluded that he truly couldn't promise himself that he wouldn't have taken advantage of her dependency.

He felt sick and exhausted. Maybe it was a good thing that he never had the chance to be a father, clearly he was unfit for the position. But Agni, there was one thing that he was thankful for. And it was that Azula was in a sturdy place. That she had the clarity and physical strength to push back when she needed to. He almost wanted her to march into the room and give him a good, well-earned slap. But she stayed away, and she probably would for a long time. Just when he could use her company the most. He should have just answered her relentless questions; in her own, borderline insufferable way, she had meant well.

Sokka knew she was going to give him the coldest shoulder that a firebender could manage, which for the princess, was pretty frigid. What he didn't know was for how long he could bare her scorn. It had taken him so long to accept it, but he loved her.

He loved her so much and yet he hurt her, just like everyone else.

.oOo.

Azula didn't want the drama but she had a knack for creating it. The more she lingered on how Sokka had manhandled her the more her temper was stroked. The firebender was more or less a silent storm, the kind that comes upon a person suddenly and with no indication. The extent of her anger didn't come out until a day or two later after seeing her bruised belly in the mirror again. The sight of the discolored bump roused her displeasure quite unexpectedly, leaving her feeling as though Sokka hadn't answered enough for giving it to her.

She wouldn't isolate him from his friends. No, that would take too much control from her. There were other ways to make the man squirm and all of them involved a certain man that she'd met long ago on Ember Island.

Azula was sporting a wicked smile. It had been so long since she'd played a good mind game.

Too long.

.oOo.

It came as no surprise at all to see her with Chan.

To see her sitting on his lap as he stroked her upper thigh. To see her resting her head languidly against his muscular chest. Sokka noted bitterly that Chan was more built than he. It slashed at his soul to see him holding Azula so close.

Sokka was a lot of things. Though he acted like it sometimes, an idiot wasn't one of those things. He could take a hint. The two of them were as good as over and he was clearly easy to replace. The Water Tribesman didn't know if he was dismayed or infuriated. He should have knocked Chan on his ass when he had the chance but he had kept himself civil. He heard Azula laugh—that charming, soft laugh. Chan pecked her cheek. Her face brightened pleasantly. All at once Sokka was fuming, for the great lengths he had went to for her, he could recall her laughing like that for him. But then, he was in too deep to remember things as he should. The princess caught him staring and her soft smile grew sharp and menacing. This was a game, she was toying with him. She was enjoying it. Looking him straight in the eye, she fluttered her fingers tantalizingly up Chan's chest. In turn the man slid his hands over her slender frame. She nibbled at his neck as his hands found their way under her shirt and stroked her back.

With each motion his blood boiled a little more. He should have told her to leave street trash in the alleys of the Ash Pit where it belonged. With each sweep of their hands and quiet sigh that Azula released—pointedly exaggerated at that—more and more unwelcomed thoughts bubbled to the surface. Among them he accused her of whoring around. He shook the thought from his head before he could speak it to her face.

He turned to see the puzzled look of Aang. "I thought that you two were…"

"She used me." Blaming her was easier than confessing to Aang that he had hurt her again. For as good-natured and unjudging as the avatar was, Sokka didn't want his close friend to see him any differently. Something flickered across Aang's face. Something that had Sokka wondering if Aang, Toph, and Katara would still talk to Azula like a friend if he kept telling only his half of the story. He couldn't lose them though, they were all he had. Azula could cry to her Ash Pit friends; Aang, Toph, and Katara—they were his friends. He had let her borrow them, but he needed them back. "She hates me."

"I'm sure that, that's not true." Aang tried.

Sokka squinted at the boy and motioned to Azula as she practically melded herself into Chan. Unable to take anymore he kicked the floor and stormed in the opposite direction. He barely noticed Aang scuffling to catch up.

.oOo.

Azula hadn't expected it to take so much out of her. The game she was playing, it wasn't as fun as it used to be. In fact, the whole thing had left her feeling hollow and foolish and immature among other things.

It had been another mistake for sure. A truly ill-placed, poorly thought out, impulsive move. But she was locked into it now. Now that Sokka had gotten his friends to withdraw their support. She couldn't really blame him, he had to talk to someone after all. She was thankful that she brought all of Chan's friends home with her, at least she still had friends.

She peered across the table, it seemed as though Sokka was sharing something rather heartfelt and she was resentful all over again. He wasn't open with her like that, and after she had put herself so far out there for him. She had less control over the situation than she had initially thought and she feared that she might not be able to fix things. She feared that she might not even want to. Chan's hand fell over hers, reflexively she pulled away before remembering that she was supposed to be enjoying it. So she took his hand, pretending that she had only flinched away because she wanted her hand on top. Chan smiled cheerfully, extremely happy to have his princess back.

It only kindled her feeling of dread even further. She was leading him on too and was going to crush him perhaps worse than Sokka. She withdrew her hand, feeling rather ill, she was going to be alone again. It would be her own fault again. She excused herself from the table, prompting Bo-Rem to ask if she could snag her leftovers.

Azula didn't want to be alone again.

Not when she had just finished putting the pieces back together.

.oOo.

He watched Azula go. She looked unmistakably shaken somehow. Weary and somber. Sokka wondered just what was he doing to her? What she was doing to him. Wondered what they were doing to each other.


	38. Chapter 38

He hadn't seen Azula in days, something he couldn't seem to figure out how to take. It might have been a good thing, but it was also means for concern. When he came to think of it, he hadn't even seen her clinging to Chan. Sokka realized, that she must be hiding away in her room again, which was never a good sign. It didn't come as a surprise to him, she had toyed with him but, in some way or another, it didn't go as she had planned. He briefly thought of going to visit her, but he felt as though such would be detrimental. She probably didn't want to see him anyhow. Even if she did, he wouldn't have gone. He was still resentful, especially with images of Chan stroking her hair and cheeks still fresh in his mind. He found his face hot all over again as he made his way towards the guest room where the gang waited. He had the length of the hallway to put on his happy carefree face.

If he couldn't pretend he would end up driving them away.

He couldn't afford that.

They were all he had, to keep him from falling completely apart.

.oOo.

A tease, that's what she was. She'd given Chan a little taste and then pulled away. It was nice to have had his touch back on her body, at least for a short while it was. Though it never compared to the care Sokka had given her. Sokka was more for pleasuring her whilst Chan liked to be on the receiving end, that was the difference. At the end of the day, Azula felt nothing for Chan other than infatuation in the vaguest sense. But not enough to spend even one more night beneath the sheets with him. Those days were long over and she found it in herself to let him know such.

He was pissed.

What was it that he had said? "After all I've done for you." She recalled. To which she replied and quite coldly, "you got me high and let me destroy myself."

A few harsh words later and she was a tease that he wanted nothing to do with. To that, she could hardly protest. She knew very well that she had used him to prod at Sokka—which seemed to have worked sublimely. So when Chan asked what he was to her, she could only answer that he was a close friend.

"Close? I'll say." He accented it with the most bitter laugh she'd ever heard. And just like that they were friends no more. Azula wanted to say that the fallout would have been tenfold if she dragged their pseudo relationship out for days. But it would seem that the intensity of their argument would have been the same no matter how long or short she had strung him along for.

Such became increasingly obvious as she watched Chan gather his belongings. He refused to look at her, only doing so when she offered him money for the road. His pride almost kept him from taking it, but he had. It would be enough to get him home to his father. As quickly as they had come, the Ash Pit members had left with their leader save for Khoza, who was not yet done living the opulent life, and Yoona. Yoona who had grown very attached to her language teacher and most everyone else who would listen to her endless prattle.

Azula wondered if Chan would even make it out of the Capital. She couldn't see him leaving Yoona nor Khoza behind. Deep down she knew that he wouldn't. She might get her chance to revive what she'd lost with Chan. But at the moment things seemed bleak and she wouldn't allow herself to raise her hopes, lest they crash and crumble.

As far as she was concerned she was alone again.

Alone and cut off.

Alone because she was still a liar.

Alone because she liked toying with people.

And four days was a long time to be alone after having seen what it was like to have company…real, genuine, and caring company. Four days was enough to make the princess long for things she hadn't thought about in a while. An old friend that never left her until she had left it. She buried her face in her palms and exhaled a very long breath. She didn't want to go there again, yet she had no one else and nothing else to turn to…

Of course, she could no longer talk to Aang and the others. She was playing mind games with their close friend. At least this time she had the decency and displeasure to feel bad about it. Her game had always required indifference on her part. That was why she was losing her own game.

She laid down all of her cards and studied them. She still had one left in her deck, one that she was ambivalent to lay down. But in a losing deck, it would seem that this card was her only option.

If only she hadn't assumed that the avatar and his friends were against her.

If only she had tried talking to them before setting that card on the table.

.oOo.

Sokka should have seen it coming the minute she watched Chan shimmy out with his gang in tow. But he didn't. Not at first when such a hollow victory had flashed in his face. Chan, homewrecking, vile, petty Chan was showing himself out—the only polite thing he'd done since arriving. Sokka almost wanted to leap in the air and bid him a grand and peppy sayonara. That was around the time he started seeing less of Azula. Another thing he couldn't help but revel in; he had won, he had finally beaten Azula at one of her games. In doing so, he beat Chan too. For once he had come out on top. He forced himself to smile the smile a victor ought to wear. But after the initial euphoria of seeing his rival leave the smile could only be forced. He couldn't seem to taste the sweetness everyone said came with victory. No matter how much he of it he tasted, he couldn't get himself to like the flavor.

He figured that playing redemption with Aang and the others would take his mind off of things. Though he was never fond of the game—being as it reminded him of being stuck in the Great Divide where Aang had invented it—but it was much better than dwelling on more pressing matters.

Sokka had the ball in his hand and was about to score a point and cry, 'redemption', when Azula made her way over the garden grass. He should have known what was coming when she looked him in the eye and he saw nothing but a sense of resigned desperation. She looked worn and spoke quietly and elicited a hushed buzzing from Sokka's own friends. As they murmured, he caught the princess' eyes again.

In them he could see a look, one that was almost remorseful as she tugged her shirt up and revealed the bruise. His heart sank and his stomach succumbed to a queasy feeling. Of all the cards Azula had at her disposal, she had played the victim one. A card that didn't seem to fit her at all.


	39. Chapter 39

For the first time in his life, Sokka felt truly and irreversibly alone. No one reached out to him, not even Aang. He knew well that he was in deep when Katara refused to spare him a second glance. No doubt, she was wary of him again. No portion of meek, 'hey Katatra's' spoken with soft smiles would coax her back in this time. She'd seen a side of him and it horrified her because even a year later, he was no closer to learning to keep that side in check. How could he get frustrated with her for it, when he, himself was terrified. He resigned himself to that he was a poisonous person, the kind that should be avoided at all costs. If he could harm and batter someone like Azula, he could destroy anyone—if he could hurt someone everyone called a monster, than what did that make him? He knew that he was no monster hunter…

Often times he would go fetch breakfast or lunch, each time he did it got no better. He would approach; he knew that his presence unnoticed because the chatter was still lively. But the prattle would always die away and he knew he had been spotted. The air would be tense and unsettling until he left, then the flow of conversation would resume slowly but surely. By the time he was at the end of the hall, talk would be in full and cheerful swing again, leaving him feeling more hollow than the time before. In recent days he avoided it altogether, taking meals at awkward hours. This particular morning he found himself hungrier than usual, so he chanced going down and interrupting their breakfast. Regret was immediate.

"Once I told Zu-Zu that Ozai's beard had spirit fungi growing in it. We made a game of trying to spot the mushrooms."

Aang chuckled.

"He would believe that." Toph rolled her eyes.

"He wanted to grow a garden in our father's beard."

Somehow, her voice still offered him a sense of comfort. Hearing it still so lucid and clear even during rough patches, reassured him. At least one of them had changed for the better. Katara mentioned something about a quirk of Aang's and Sokka's ears were graced with the princess' delicate laughter. He could sense it on her though, that she was still troubled over something or a few matters—surly he was one such matter.

After her laugh had fallen away, the rest of the noise did. For once, she was the last to spot him, the last to catch on. Sokka expected her to go rigid at the sight of him, but she remained impassive and impeccable. The only indication of her reluctance was her silence. "Good morning, Azula." He greeted.

She deliberately threw all of her focus into deciding which fruit she wanted to eat. He knew her well enough to know that she didn't want to eat any of them at all. He watched her snag a handful of cherries anyhow. Despite the insincerity of her want, she ended up stealing the whole bowl.

"Hey, I was actually going to eat those!" Toph grumbled.

"Can I have one?" Sokka offered. Suddenly the bowl was all Toph's. "I'm sorry." He mumbled. "I didn't mean to get that angry it was stupid."

Azula crossed her arms, her expression blank, a telltale sign that she was walling herself off. Seeming to be a master of bad decisions, Sokka dared to take her hand. He didn't realize just how awful it was not having her hand locked in his, until he was holding it again. At first her tug was light, but when he didn't release her hand, she jerked it away. "Azula, please."

"She doesn't want to talk to you!" Katara exclaimed.

Suddenly he was reliving the weeks after he had hit Katara. If his own sister couldn't bare to talk to him after such a slip, then Azula…she wouldn't even be able to look at him. Come to think of it, she hadn't spared him one teeny look since he'd arrived at the table. Something bubbled within him and he couldn't tell if it was misery or rage or a dangerous concoction of both. Whatever it was, it was becoming harder to contain. He needed to release it somewhere, somehow. He bit the inside of his cheek hard as if it would somehow suppress the swelling emotions. In a final display of his dwindling self-control, Sokka slapped his hands against his own thighs and retreated to his room. He needed to find something to throw.

.oOo.

A part of Azula, a very large portion, wanted to cave and converse with the Water Tribesman. He had taken her through the worst of herself, she felt as if she owed him at least an attempt to do him the same. If he could weather the worst of her, she ought to try to return that. But he had thrown this at her at an awful time. She had to invest her energy elsewhere and could spare none of it to dealing with Sokka. It tore at her in a way she didn't expect, that she wasn't used to. "You're still selfish." It was the one insult that had followed her from the Ash Pit. Unbeknownst to Khoza or not, the man had left an impression. He twiddled his thumbs as Yoona babbled to him about her plans for the day. It might be right for Azula to push her own problems to the side for once, but they were occupying all of her attention and she couldn't seem to keep them from her mind.

"Are you okay, Azula?" Aang asked.

"Yes." She replied.

"In other words, you need help." Toph stated.

Khoza looked away from Yoona. "Is this about the sea savage…" at this Katara scowled and tossed a snowball in his general direction. Dodging it, he continued, "or your mother?"

"I'm fine." Azula drummed her fingers over the tabletop. Her brain was abuzz with many things. For as smart as Khoza was, he was so painfully unaware of many things. One such matter was that his words had managed to persuade her to console Sokka. Just as the decision prompted her to stand, a gaggle of suitcase wielding royals shuffled into the room. She had taken too long to decide and now her opening was gone.

Ursa's hand on her cheek was about as welcomed as Sokka's touch on her hand. The woman never cared to be so tender with her before, why now? It was because, Azula decided silently, she had become more approachable. It was a potent reminder of just how well Sokka had been to her; he had came to her at her lowest, when even her mother couldn't bring herself to do so. That woman, Ursa…she was supposed to mother, was supposed to love her unconditional or something of the sort, so why was it that literally everyone else had helped her out of her hard place? Why was it that Azula's former foes had taken a shine to her faster than her own mother. While she was at it she might as well ask the same of her uncle who had always seen the best in everyone.

Save for her.

She supposed to him, she wasn't human.

Ursa looked completely baffled, as if she couldn't understand why her daughter—who had seemed so mild only moments before—was scorning her. Why her daughter was behaving so coldly. Likely it was because the woman always assumed Azula was being devious in some way or another. She never seemed to sense the hurt.

Not that Azula made it easy.

.oOo.

Sokka didn't realize that Ursa was supposed to arrive so soon. It made sense to him why Azula had been so moody—and, if he dared say it—twice as incessant in her interrogation. She had needed something to keep her mind off of her mother, and he wouldn't give it to her. She wanted to help him but he snapped at her. He chuckled to himself, he had to, at the situation. Azula wanted to help him, no one was forcing her hand. She just wanted to help him like he helped her and punished her for it. Without even realizing it, he had kicked the firebender when she was on her way down. No wonder she was holding such a grudge. No wonder she wanted nothing to do with him. He wouldn't want to help him either if he were her. If he were Aang and Toph he wouldn't want to be his friend either; he was no longer compassionate and caring enough for Aang and no longer witty and amusing enough for Toph. If he were Katara, he would be embarrassed to be related to himself.

And if he were Suki, he would be glad to be dead and as far from himself as he could get.

Sokka eyed the portraits of Azula. It seemed so far off when he had painted them. The somber and hollow woman in the first seemed to annunciate the woman she had become—the woman in the portrait next to it. Those bright vibrant hues, they had both been very happy on the day it was painted. He longed for another sunrise like that.

Azula's smile had been so radiant because she knew that she wasn't alone. Sokka was equally as beaming because he had always had support. The kind he didn't have currently. He hoped that she would be okay without him…who was he kidding, the princess would be better off with him gone.

He wouldn't be around to see it, but he hoped that things would work out for she and her mother.


	40. Chapter 40

No matter how he ended things he would no longer be in the palace. He just hadn't decided in which fashion he would depart. Wasn't sure if he would simply leave or if he would take up a more permeant solution. In current, his mind leaned more in one direction than the other.

He knew one thing though; that his situation was suffocating. He couldn't bare to watch Azula only from a distance mostly because it reminded him that she no longer cared for him. Partly—and shamefully—because he envied the higher place she had gotten to. That should be him, he couldn't help but wonder if he sacrificed his own wellbeing to give her a chance at one. At least he could say with certainty that she wasn't taking her chance for granted.

Sokka ran his finger over the blade of his sword, it didn't hurt like it should.

He had recently sharpened the blade.

But to him it seemed too dull.

.oOo.

The sun had the pleasure of falling and rising before Azula even looked at Ursa…at her mother a second time. She had only looked up when Yoona uttered, "that lady look fency…fa-fancy. Fancy?"

Azula nodded affirmatively at the pronunciation before fixing her gaze in the direction Yoona had pointed to. "She's not that great."

Yoona cocked her head.

"Trust me, she isn't."

That had been a few hours ago. Azula thought that Ursa must have been seeking her out, the woman kept appearing wherever she went. Constantly undeterred by any of the other souls in the palace, and with no Zuko to dote over, Ursa made it a challenge to be evaded. The princess was rather invested in a book; a little something on the Fire Nation during the age of warlords when it was known as the Fire Islands. And so it was that she had Azula cornered. The firebender made a fine display of ruffling through the texts but Ursa was remarkably persistent, watching her read for at least one more hour. Eventually the presence became tiresome so Azula set the texts down. She needed some fresh air anyhow and she promised to give Khoza an extended tour of the Capital and all of its finer locations. Azula stretched her arms, that moment seemed like a good time to show the man around.

"The Fire Nation seems lively lately." Ursa spoke. Azula never had been fond of small talk and was even less, when the small talk spouted from the lips of her mother. "The public seems impressed by your reign."

"Don't worry mother, it's only temporary." She made her way past.

"I think you're doing wonderful things for our Nation."

It was bait, solid bait at that. The words were pretty, but they weren't what tuned Azula's attention in. It was that she had said them at all. That she knew Azula well enough to comment on that instead of her looks or how much she had matured. "You would rather see Zu-Zu back home and managing things."

"The throne is his, yes." Ursa replied.

Just to see her flinch, Azula replied, "and if I decide not to turn the crown back over to him?"

Ursa pursed her lips. "Then I'm sure you'll take care of your people well." A diplomatic response, the kind of teetering around her true feelings that Azula had expected. "But I don't think that you will."

She turned her back on the woman. "You don't?"

Ursa nodded with a slight smile. It should have made her happy that her mother thought her to be morally sound. But it only made her more furious. After how many years of the woman only seeing the worst in her. Of course she would only acknowledge Azula's capacity to do kind things after she had already left the worst of herself behind. Her mother never seemed to see that small glimmer that Sokka had noticed. Azula clenched her jaw and made her way towards the door.

"You're doing a lot better."

She didn't even know what Azula's worst looked like. She didn't know exactly how much better, better was. She had been utterly terrified, too much so to visit her like a mother ought to have.

"No thanks to you."

.oOo.

There was a glint as Sokka's sword came down one final time. The sequence did little to help him think but he had forced a decision anyhow. The truth was, he was afraid. Even if he did die, he was sure he wouldn't join Suki. But he would be leaving, without a word, he would be gone. Had he gone downstairs to say goodbye, his departing words would fall on def ears anyhow. He picked his way through clothing—deciding which to leave and which to bring along. Going through his items, he came to realize that he didn't have much at all. His boomerang and his sword, a wallet of coins and a waterskin. A hand-made choker and some wolf armor. And his paint set. That made up most of what he owned…owned and cared for that is. But his paint set was not in his pack, he couldn't seem to bring himself to paint anything at all. He slung his pack over his shoulder and shut the door behind him. A beam of sunlight filtered through the crack in the door falling momentarily on his portraits as it shut. He crept down the hall, taking the long way, the way that brought him past Azula's room. Maybe she would see him and ask where he was off to. Maybe she would convince him to stay.

His heartbeat picked up some as he came to her room to find the door open and the room vacant. His heart fell. Momentarily he thought to write a note and set it on the bed, but she hadn't left him one before dashing away to the Ash Pit. She probably wouldn't want a note from him anyhow.

He paused his getaway only to write Katara a simple apology. This he slipped under her door. With that he began his hustle. The boat wouldn't wait for him, it didn't even know that he was on his way.

.oOo.

Azula wandered the palace, she had already checked his room and the garden as well as the roof and the designated training rooms. Her next guess was the springs. She could usually always find him there. She didn't know what kind of conversation it would be but all of that walking and searching had left her with ample time to prepare some dialog. Each script that unfolded in her head depended on what Sokka would say when she came upon him. She had every intention of letting him explain himself first, it felt more proper to so it in that manner. But the springs were empty as well, the only splashes and churns came from the spring's natural motion. Officially fed up with this game of hide and seek, Azula cast her clothes aside and submerged herself. She leaned against the craggy spring wall, watching steam waft towards the ceiling. She let a small jet of flame expel from her lips and watched it dissipate in a puff of blue.

It helped to breath fire when she pined for a long drag from her kiseru. It absolved the urge and usually helped relax her in itself. She breathed out another jet of fire, this one longer. Its smoke lingered. She tapped her fingers against the rocks.

By the time she emerged from the spring, Katara had found Sokka's note.

It was a simple thing. But then he was a simple…seemingly simple man. "I'm sorry." And then beneath that, "bye."

"I let him leave." Katara muttered softly. "I can't believe I let him just leave like that."

"You saw him go?" Azula asked, doing her best to keep the question from sounding accusatory.

"No. But I didn't do anything to make him want to stay." She replied. "I. I didn't even notice that he was gone."

Azula pressed her lips together. She shared the same sentiments but couldn't bring herself to vocalize them. They were probably going to pin it on her and remind her that it was her fault anyways, so she would let them remind her instead of saying it of herself.

She had toyed with him and for her game he was gone. She hadn't wanted to isolate him but in her desperate attempt to not be seen as the monster again, she'd rifted him further than he probably could have ever shunned her. For what it was, it had worked, she had won. She wasn't seen as the monster, but she sure felt the part. She was supposed to be different, so why was she acting on old habits? Old habits that just cost her Sokka.

She had played her game and this time it had hurt her too.


	41. Chapter 41

Water pulled itself around the boat. Sokka watched the water break into two twin paths as the vessel cut through it. Sokka gripped his boomerang and looked towards the sunset. The stars would be out soon, though he wasn't sure that he could enjoy them. He would try, he had to have some form of small talk when the boat docked once more. He continued to stare at the rippling water, but only until it started reminding him of Katara. He pulled himself away from the rails and focused on the direction he was headed, perhaps he'd never turn around. It seemed like a grand idea to leave everything behind.

The solitude of the ship left him with plenty of time to think. To think and consider that maybe his ill-temperament was present even before Suki's demise. It must have been, he hadn't been quite the same since his bold, airship slice. The collateral damage was rather massive, bodies had washed ashore for days after. The bodies of men who were only trying to make a living or spare themselves from Ozai's wrath. That was when he first began to think of himself as a killer. As a violent person. Somehow, somewhere down the lines it stopped mattering that his actions helped save many more people, he couldn't see it in retrospect. No, he only saw the distressed faces of the firebenders who couldn't swim as he dumped them into the unrelenting sea below.

Sokka wasn't just unhelpful, he had a natural knack for destroying people. On impulse alone tossed his sword into the ocean so that he may never have the opportunity to raise it against someone again. His fingers curled around his boomerang, but he couldn't bring himself to let that go yet.

.oOo.

Ursa didn't make another attempt at conversation for the rest of the night. If she wanted to talk to Azula she would have to do better than that. She wanted the woman to prove that she wanted to talk to her. If she couldn't be bothered to put up any sort of fight to see her daughter than she wasn't worth the stress of rebuilding a relationship.

She would let her mother's lack of effort slid this time though. Azula wasn't up for talking with the woman in light of things. She would rather speak to someone who really cared. Someone who actually knew how to console her. Katara seemed like a viable option, but the girl was in low spirits herself. Azula found herself in the waterbender's room regardless.

At Azula's entrance Katara peeked out from under the covers. Her eyes were puffy with tears, the princess couldn't gauge that much. "He needed me and all I did was worry if he would slap me again. How could I just let him go?"

"He wasn't exactly open about what he needed help with." Azula mumbled. "It's awfully hard to help someone who doesn't want it." Now she was just trying to justify things with herself.

"He did ask me for help. I ignored him."

"You had adequate help." Azula shrugged. "You probably wouldn't have done it if I didn't put it into your mind anyhow." It was after all, her specialty. To give people hideous ideas and let them act upon them. Sometimes she wished people wouldn't listen to her.

"I could have ignored you." Katara pointed out. "But I didn't. None of us did."

Azula felt a small pang. She sensed that Katara was piling the blame onto her, not that it wasn't well earned. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and brushed her fingers through it. If they began pinning everything on her she would be every bit as alone as she had been before and Sokka would be gone completely in vain.

"We could have supported both of you." Aang wandered in. "You realize that right?"

Azula shrugged. Truth be told, she hadn't. It had always been she verses Zuko…or Mai…or anyone really and she was never the one people chose to defend. Why would this have been any different? They'd known and cared for Sokka longer than she. "No, I always assumed you would side with one of us…which, in my defense, is exactly what you did."

Aang rubbed his temple. "I guess that this wasn't very reassuring, huh?" He forced a teeny smile. "We just thought you could use a little more support."

"I would have been fine. Better than Sokka, anyways. I'm used to being alone. Sokka isn't." The more Azula thought on it the more it seemed as though she should have just let them get angry with her. She could have just confided in the Nyūkirā instead of stealing Sokka's friends.

"Wow, we're worse than Zuko at handling situations." Toph remarked.

"I wouldn't go that far." Azula replied. She was rather thankful that he wasn't around for this particular disaster. She was thrilled to say that they've mended things between them to a point where he would probably land a sorry soul on their ass for her. Which is precisely why his absence was a blessing in this case. The first time Sokka had left her bruised, Zuko was ready for a brawl. Somewhere down the lines, Azula decided that she was the only person who got to kick Sokka's ass. It was her fight anyhow. "Where would he go off to anyhow?"

"Maybe he'll find himself a band of thugs in a place called the Fish Bowl. And then you guys can start a whole new gang rivalry." Toph suggested.

"I don't know, usually he likes to hole himself up in his room." Katara replied quietly. "He's never taken off like this before…"

Azula prompted her to elaborate.

"He only did it one other time, after Suki died. We didn't see him for days but he came back with a few stories about the Earth Kingdom countryside." Katara replied. "He just likes to wander."

"Hopefully he'll wander home." Said Aang.

.oOo.

Being on a boat again didn't bring back any fond memories. This became apparent as he tried to get some sleep. He wondered if Suki had been asleep when her ship went down? Was she afraid or simply surprised? Had there been a moment where she thought that she'd make it? The boat lolled. Part of him wished that the sea would just claim him already.

He turned onto his side, he could practically see Suki on the bed next to him, she would be smiling, would be reassuring him. She always knew how to do it, how to make visions of the war and of the waterlogged bodies fade away. But now she was a waterlogged body, what remained of one anyhow.

How had he managed to inadvertently kill so many people with water he couldn't even bend an ounce?

And so he had the sleep of a condemned criminal. With much on his mind.

.oOo.

Azula awoke early, Zu-Zu would be back soon and she planned on meeting him at the harbor. If he was going to hear things from anyone's mouth it would be hers. She also didn't mind the prospect of being the first to greet him.

She watched the ship crawl into port and in due time, the Fire Lord was back in his Nation. "How have things been here?"

"It depends what you're asking about." Azula replied. "Political affairs have been stronger than ever." At this Zuko snorted. "But Sokka is…he's making things interesting." She kept her voice carefully level. She relayed most of the details, downplaying their physical altercation to the best of her ability. Once or twice she met Ursa's eyes, if nothing else, the woman seemed pleased to see the siblings so cordial. There was a certain warmth in her eyes then, something that told her that her mother was proud of her. She couldn't bring herself to care. Her replenished relationship with Zuko wouldn't be anything noteworthy if Ursa hadn't helped pit them against each other in the first place. Iroh too, looked at her with a degree of pride. She supposed that this was the change he had been hoping to see on her, the transfomration he also had no hand in assisting.

"So you have no idea where he got off to?" Zuko asked.

"Actually, I have many ideas, that's the problem." Azula explained, "there are so many places I think that he could be." She paused. "I don't know if I should go searching either, it might be better to just let things happen. Let him be alone for a while." She knew in her heart that she was projecting. She was the one who needed the distance, she just fretted over just how long that distance was, one more thing that she had lost control over.

"So what's bothering you more, Sokka or mother?" Zuko asked.

"What makes you say that I'm bothered." Azula sighed.

"You've only insulted me once since I got here."

"A fair assessment." Azula replied.

She felt his hand on her back. She looked out at the lapping water. "I suppose Ursa is more of a nuisance right now."

"I'll talk to her." Zuko replied.

She wasn't sure what he planned on saying, but she gathered that it wouldn't hurt to let him have at it. Of course she would have to decided exactly what she wanted from her mother before he could deliver any messages. She allowed him to slip away anyhow, she would see what Zu-Zu could accomplish on his own.

He hadn't asked for the crown back so she would savor her last few minutes as Fire Lord Azula.

Savoring those last moments, included acquiring herself a list of all of the ships that departed and the passages aboard. The fact of the matter was that Sokka didn't have much going for him in the Fire Nation without companionship. She hoped that he was still within her Nation, but doubted that he would stay. It couldn't hurt to snag some documents, just in case.

.oOo.

The weather was growing much colder as the Water Tribe came into view.

Home.

He was home. He should have never left it in the first place. If he hadn't he wouldn't have had such a huge role in the war, he wouldn't have killed anyone. He wouldn't have met Suki nor Yue only to lose them. And he wouldn't have met Azula; the infuriating woman that always seemed to know just how to push him over the edge. His infuriating woman that he loved just as much as the two he had lost.

Sokka stumbled through the snow, no longer accustomed to its presence. It would seem that he didn't belong here either. He was used to the pleasant warmth of the Fire Nation and found himself loathing the unforgiving frigidness of his homeland.

He'd rather bare nature's icy air than the cold Azula offered.

"Sokka? Is that you?" At first Sokka didn't recognize Bato, the man had shaved his head. But his voice was one he knew all too well.

"Yeah, it's me." That didn't feel like the truth at all. He definitely wasn't the Sokka, Bato enjoyed taking on fishing and hunting trips. And he wasn't the jokester that vexed Bato either. He didn't realize just how much he missed the Bato until his long time family friend spoke up again. He didn't know what Sokka had become, so he was one of the few that still looked at him in the same way he did before the invasion…before the chaos.

"What brings you back here?" He scoped around for a span of time. "And without your sister?"

Sokka took a deep breath and settled on the answer that required the least amount of explaining "Where's my dad?"


	42. Chapter 42

A primitive adrenaline took Sokka over and he surged forward with a holler. He charged over the snow with a purpose, already home was feeling right. Navigating rolling hills of white and over mounds of glistening snow was coming naturally to him, it was as if he'd never left. Apparently his first re-encounter with the snow was a sorry fluke. Spear in hand, he charged at the arctic hippo. His father trailed behind, ready to jump in when needed. But this was Sokka's hunt and his father was content to give him the glory of the kill. Heaven knew that he needed an outlet. He wouldn't be brutal though, he wouldn't let himself. He thrust his spear forward sending the great beast reeling. He struck out again, this time toppling it. The third strike marked the killing blow; they would make a trail and gather men to help them haul their catch back to the tribe. His father was brimming with pride and finally.

Finally.

He felt useful.

Needed.

Wanted.

.oOo.

Azula combed through the ship logs until a bored sort of tiredness convinced her to stray from the documents. The palace was growing horribly dull without Sokka and without the constant—sometimes profane—banter of the Ash Pit crew. She tried to ease her boredom by giving Khoza his promised tour and by offering Yoona extra speech lessons. But she had ran out of places to tour and Yoona's attention span was rather small, it wasn't long before the girl grew twitchy. Apparently, she had made friends with some of the staff and guests and was itching to chatter with them. Azula might have joined her if she didn't have other, less pleasing matters to attend. With nothing else to do save for picking through the ship logs, Azula found herself growing uneasy. Before then, she had never found herself worrying for the well being of someone else and she didn't enjoy doing so in the slightest. She flipped through the pages and groaned, she didn't realize just how many ships the Fire Nation deployed. No wonder their navy was so impeccable. She ran her fingers through her hair and set another page to the side. Hundreds of pages and just for one day.

She emerged from her room, something she hadn't done all day. Which she soon found was a cause for alarm. Halfway down the hallway she ran into Zuko, the tension fled from his body almost immediately. Azula grumbled, "you're supposed to get tense when you see me."

"I was just coming to check on you…" he let her fill in the blanks.

"Noted. Apricated. Now get out of my way."

"What's the hurry?"

"I have hundreds of ship logs to get through and I've read through maybe a hundred exactly. The sooner I get something to eat, the sooner I can get back to it." Azula replied. "I still have to run through my firebending routine." She had blown it off the day before and the day before that one. She refused to do so again.

"Aang is getting worried."

"Tell him I'm fine."

"Not everything is about you." Zuko retorted. Azula rolled her eyes. "He's worried about Sokka. I'm sure he wouldn't mind looking through some of those logs while you do you're training."

Azula tapped her chin. "I think that might be the smartest plan you've come up with since we started talking again." She should have come up with it herself, she supposed that she was still accustomed to doing things on her own. "I'll go get them."

"While you're in there can you bring me my crown?"

"Sorry Zu-Zu, I lost it."

"Where, in your hair? I thought you'd be wearing it."

Azula motioned for him to follow her. She could already see Aang's panicky look, he'd been holding it together for a while, but each day seemed to cause him more anxiety. It wouldn't be long before he was leaping on his bison and following a blind trail. The least she could do was give him a lead.

.oOo.

Hakoda was very quiet. He was only ever that quiet when he was deep in thought and for a moment, Sokka thought that he would ask what he doing back home. But the inquiry never came, it would seem that his father would be waiting until Sokka was ready to share. And he wanted to, he wanted to very much, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. How was he supposed to justify abandoning Katara? How was he supposed to look his father, a man who had raised him much better than that, and tell him that he had struck his girlfriend. Never mind that she stuck back and twice as hard, the fact that he had gotten physical again was cause for shame. He wasn't ready to see the disappointed look in his father's eyes, not after they had been filled with such high regard for him.

"Good hunt!" Sokka declared.

"A very good one. You've become quite the skilled hunter. If you're around we oughta bring you along for the winter hunt." Hakoda replied.

The winter hunt! Sokka grinned, he'd dreamed of going on it since he was a boy. But it was only autumn and he would be back in the Fire Nation by then. His smile faded; would he be back? He wasn't particularly wanted there and he didn't see any way to make amends. So instead he forced the smile back onto his face, "I can't wait." For good measure he added, "you don't know how long I've wanted to join you guys."

"I think I do." Hakoda ruffled Sokka's hair. "I remember when you stole a hunting helm too big for your head, picked up a branch larger than you were tall, and stumbled out of our hut. Your mother had to carry you back inside." They shared a laugh. It felt so refreshing to laugh again. He could almost pretend that he had come back home without anything to push his hand.

.oOo.

Her motions were haunted. Every single one. No matter how splendid her performance was, she couldn't find it in her to be excited. The last time she had worked on her stances, ended with a genuine reason to put them to use. Azula wanted that stupid oaf to be in the room working on his painting and making occasional commentary. It didn't matter if it was snide or encouraging, she just wanted his presence in the room. She let her hair down, deciding to retire early. She was in good form anyways and could afford to cut corners or skip practice altogether. She'd probably feel guilty about it later but she wandered to her room anyhow. The gang diligently shuffled through page after page, Aang was the fastest and most eager in this. Katara was the most tedious. Toph, like most everything else, didn't take it seriously. She made a competition of trying to finish her stack before everyone else did.

Azula had given them all of the logs, still terribly undecided as to whether or not she should be looking for him at all. She had the biggest hand in pushing him out in the first place, it didn't feel appropriate to try to drag him back home. If he was miserable where he was, he would make his way back home, just like she did.

She wanted him to be happy, but for the sake of seeing him again, hoped that he wasn't.

Azula passed his room, something she usually bypassed by taking the other route to her own room. She paused and turned back. Had they looked in his room yet? Katara found his note in her own bedroom, maybe he had left another in his. She pushed the door open. It was dark, with the curtains drawn and no candles alit. She lit a few and pried about the room. She suspected that she wouldn't even find a sign that it had been lived in, but the man had left a good many things behind.

Significant things.

His paint set was left out on the dresser, a few tubes open and drying out. Azula bit her lip, it was a little too late but she closed them anyhow. Leaning against the dresser, a painted version of herself stared back at her. Both versions. And it hurt like hell. Azula sat herself down against the wall and drew her legs up.

Even though he promised not to…

In all regards, he had left her behind.


	43. Chapter 43

_He stared at her for the first time, he knew he shouldn't have. Her face was puffy and blue, her lips beginning to peel away. Seaweed clung to what was left of her hair and a few barnacles clung too leech infested arms and legs. Sokka retched at the sight alone, the smell only coaxed the reaction further. Someone had mercifully closed her eyes before she had been brought before him. He regretted his request to see her one last time. He should have let his last sight of her be one of she at her prime. A prime she still should have been well in. Sokka forced himself to look up again. This time he could see pockmarks where fish and other sea dwellers had sought an easy meal. It was a wonder she was back in one piece at all. He wondered, at once, how many of his victims had been. Maybe she'd been spared because he'd provided them meal enough a while back. Regardless, he mustered up the strength and fought back his repugnance long enough to caress her cheek one final time. Katara's hand was on his back and Aang was to his right looking grimmer than he'd ever seen the nomad. Not for the first time he wished he had Toph's sightless eyes, the girl was blessed in that she would never have to see the grisliest things. He drew back his hand, the smell of death and murky water clung to in for the duration of the day._

_That night he dreamed of miserable horrifying things. He stood at the shoreline gazing upon the husks of a thousand war balloons. They jutted out of the water like blackened, metal ribs. Swaths of polyester fabric hung from those spokes like rotting flesh. The sky was an ugly shade of orange with splotches of red and bleak brown. One war blimp remained in the air, Suki stood upon it. He could do nothing but scream as she cursed his name and asked him 'why'd you do it?' He could do nothing but holler as she drew closer to the edge and then dived to the mercy of the currents. He tossed himself into the water shouting for her, begging her to let him help her. She gave no answer. She was gone until the waves spat her up again, looking as he'd seen her the morning before. He hoped that the nightmare was through with him, but the water vomited more bodies. All of them dressed in Fire Nation garb. He was in the sea, much too deep in it. So when an eager cluster of vengeful hands reached up from the water to grab at him, all he could do was let them pull him under._

_He deserved it anyhow._

**.oOo.**

He thought that, that might have been when things started going wrong. After he touched her cheek and began to reek of decay. Maybe in touching her, he had acquired himself the ability to diminish and hurt that which he touched. Maybe that was Suki's vengeance for getting her killed—he would forever be doomed to harm those he tried to love. That's why he had to stay with his father. Hakoda was bigger than he and with muscles to match. Sokka couldn't hurt him, not without getting knocked on his ass. Yes, his father was the safest bet; he could love his father without worrying about abusing the man.

He busied himself with cooking up the arctic hippo, they would be feasting that night, a large, village-wide feast. According to Bato, one of the largest feasts they'd have in a while. "It was a good catch," he said, "a successful hunt." And Hakoda, beaming from ear to ear reminded him, "I'm proud of you _." You wouldn't be, dad,_ he thought,  _if you knew why I came home._ He almost said it but Hakoda had continued on and on about how he'd become such a fine man, such a strong, good man. He couldn't bring himself to shatter that image. So he continued with his preparations for the feast with a grin that was half genuine and half false.

A fine man would have done the things he had.

**.oOo.**

_She had been nothing but helpful in the weeks to follow as his temper rose steadily and dangerously. Katara was fussing with an unstable bomb and it was about to go off. He knew that if she hung around she would take the brunt of his anger eventually—he should have pushed her away before she could—but he never imagined that it would be over something so utterly ridiculous._

_She was going through old knick knacks and had picked out Suki's fans and makeup, she suggested optimistically that he should wear it to help him feel closer to Suki. The suggestion came from a good place and probably would have worked if he were Aang. He simply shrugged the idea off, stating that it wouldn't do him very well, he'd rather forget anyways. "You aren't even trying to help yourself." Katara muttered. He should have exploded then and there, it would have made sense._

_But instead he replied, "I am, you just don't see it." He wondered all the same if that was the truth._

_"Sokka, you haven't left the house in days…"_

_"I like it in here, I don't have to look at the ocean."_

_"Sokka! You're from the Water Tribe!" Katara shouted, throwing her hands in the air._

_Imagine that, a Water Tribesman who couldn't stand water. "It never let me get close to it anyways."_

_Katara scrunched her brows. "What are you talking about? Everyone here loves you, the whole village let you get close…"_

_"No, no, the water." Sokka mumbled. "I can't even bend it, it wouldn't let me. I'm hardly a Water Tribesman."_

_"I'm the only one in the Southern Tribe who can bend, it's not you." Katara tried._

_He was already shutting down at the point and captured little of what she had to argue. He was tired of hearing it. Tired of her attempts to calm him or make him laugh, humor wasn't her strong point. That is his job…was his job._

_The detonation happened later that day. "Hey Sokka! Look at this rock Aang found for me." That was it, that cheerful greeting is what did him in. He didn't want to hear about some fucking rock. How could she be ogling at rocks when Suki's funeral was in just a few days. "It has little crystals in it." He didn't hear her over the sound of the boiling blood beating behind his ears._

_"Look what Aang found me, look what Aang found me." He mocked in a mutter. Suki never found him anything like that. She would never get a chance too. It wasn't fair. Katara got everything…she could waterbend, she could fight well enough hand to hand, she got the water scroll, their mother's necklace, the healing water from the spirit oasis, and Aang. She had a lover, a powerful and important one at that. And what did he have? A stupid boomerang and a hunting knife. His space sword, the only cool thing he ever owned was somewhere deep in the ocean._

_The fucking ocean._

_It took everything from him both petty and significant._

_Sokka hated the ocean. And in that moment he hated Katara who reminded him of the ocean. He didn't realize that he had acted upon his hatred until she had cried out for their father. He felt a whip of water across his cheek, that railed him up more. Water, the water was hurting him again. He didn't even see Katara at that point, only water. Only the ocean. The ocean that threatened to swallow everything he loved and then he, himself._

_He'd never seen his father look so ashamed, so embarrassed._

**.oOo.**

Perhaps it was because it was on his mind again, or simply because he was at home. But he dreamed again. A violent awful myriad of images. The feast had been well enough, many gathered around to congratulate him on his first real hunt. Many more—younger children—clustered around him asking him to teach them how to hunt. "I want to be just like you when I grow up!" One remarked. It filled him with pride only fleetingly before he thought to himself,  _trust me, you don't_. He nodded at the little girl. She would much rather be like Katara, a fierce warrior who only harmed those who deserved it, sometimes not even them.

A dozen pats on the back and plates of arctic hippo later, and he was in his room. His father was still up with Bato, tipsy and singing horrid renditions of Water Tribe folk songs that would have been humorous many moons ago. Now excess drinking only reminded him of a certain princess and her antics. Every time the bottles clicked her face flashed in his mind. He tossed the covers over his head, eager for the temporary release.

It didn't come. Instead he found himself back on Fire Nation shores with the familiar spiny silhouettes of twisted black war ships. Their polyester, even more tattered than the first time, fluttering in a hectic breeze. A figure loomed upon the only war blimp in the sky. The ocean had already tossed Suki limply onto the shore, so who was on the war balloon? He already knew the answer just as clear as he already knew what she would do. He watched her fall but still cried out. If anything he yelled louder, harder.

He darted out into the waves pleading with the princess to tell him where she was. Where the water had taken her, but she was laughing at him, that low, tantalizing, dangerous laughter. She was taunting him, "you'll never find me." Her voice was cool and smooth. "Keep trying though." It was almost nonchalant. "I'm going to die." Almost happy.

He felt fingers curl around his ankle. The face that accompanied the hand was rotting and crawling with sea critters. An urchin planted itself in the left eye-socket and seaweed and kelp spring from the nose, drifting and swaying with the current. It opened its sea-bloated mouth spraying out an eel or two. "It was my birthday."

Bolting upright in his bed he could hear his father and Bato, still awake. Gran might have been home as well because Hakoda was again relaying the story of how Sokka had taken down the hippo cow. "Hesa gud gud braveman." Hakoda, well into his drinks, slurred. But Sokka wasn't a fine, strong, good, nor brave man as his dad had boasted.

He was a man of war.

A dented, damaged, man of war.


	44. Chapter 44

The morning couldn't come quick enough, but when it finally did, Sokka almost longed to have the night back. At least the nightmares during those hours weren't real. Sokka rolled himself out of bed, feeling no more rested than he had before he pulled the covers over his head. He was going to have to tell Hakoda everything. It was no longer bearable to hear the man go on and on about how wonderful and respectable his son is. Every time the man spoke highly of him a piece of him shattered further, the praise felt like mockery with the whole truth yet to be spoken. But with each word of praise it became harder and harder to fess up. And the fallout of finally putting it out there would only get worse the longer he let his father believe that he was a noble man.

He felt sick as he wandered down the hall. His father was probably hungover, perhaps he should wait until later to make his awful reveal. Hakoda was probably already in a rough mood with his head pounding and the lights seeming too bright.

Sokka spied his father nestled in a fluff of furs, as expected, with one arm thrown over his eyes. Bato was still good and passed out on the other side of the room. He clearly drew the short end of the situation as he was sprawled out without even a blanket. Sokka almost whished he had, had the energy to join them, maybe he would have gotten the furs and his father would have been flopped over on the table. They could have laughed about that for days to come…but then Sokka didn't have much laughter in him.

.oOo.

Zuko decided he needed help running the Fire Nation. During his stay on Ember Island the man had apparently realized that the stress was becoming too much. He said with almost comedic fear, "I think I understand why our father was such an asshole." Azula couldn't particularly disagree, after every meeting Zuko would rise crankier than the day before. He said that after a week or two where his only problem was Momo stealing all of the ripest mangos, that the throne was doing him more harm than good.

Azula found herself with an extensive list of things to do, now that he had decided to give her a hefty share of the power, mostly dealing in military and foreign affairs. Talking to Ursa was not on that list. But the woman—whom Azula had come to realize was rather crafty—had cornered her into a conversation.

A discussion that began with, "the Fire Nation has never had two Fire Lords before, your reign won't be forgotten any time soon." Azula had every intention of ignoring it, but Ursa followed it up with some rather interesting theories. Theories and musings about how such a fresh method of ruling would impact the Fire Nation, the direction it was headed in, and its current state. The kind of pondering she knew that Azula couldn't resist part taking in. Begrudgingly, Azula laid down her own predictions and plans, if for no other reason than to find material to argue over. But the woman…her mother, seemed to agree with many of her ideas and would occasionally suggest something that wasn't horribly stupid. "We don't really have much of a need for our military right now." Azula spoke. "Zu-Zu managed to uphold the peace—I know, I'm shocked too—so I was thinking of putting their skills to use elsewhere until they're needed on the battlefield again."

"And what would you have them do?" Ursa asked.

"The Fire Nation is a very…high risk destination with a lot of…" she paused again "daring pass times." She gave a special thought to The Rumble. "I've seen travelers and our own people alike get caught in tricky situations, especially when they try to hike up the active volcanoes. I was thinking of hiring some of our military personal to go rescue those reckless idiots." Not that they didn't deserve the hard spots they landed themselves in, but she couldn't help but think of Wire and Bo-Rem. All of her friends were exactly the type of morons who could use that kind of protection.

"I never thought of that. We can put Xanu in charge, he always did love helping idiots in need." Ursa smirked.

Twice as begrudgingly, Azula admitted that such commentary struck her humor. "Xanu is an idiot, he can relate to them." To her surprise, her mother laughed at the ill-mannered insult. In the same beat, Azula wondered just what Xanu had done to make Ursa bitter, and when.

For much of the day Ursa tagged along with Azula as she ran through her list and it wasn't an awful time. She wondered if she should break the mood and bring up that which bothered her. Her mother must have been dwelling upon the same thing.

"I hurt you didn't I?" Ursa asked.

.oOo.

He watched Hakoda sharpen his hunting knife for the longest time. He didn't know how long he had been standing there for before the man noticed his presence, stopped what he was doing, and looked up with a smile. "Need me to sharpen your blade?"

"Not this time, dad." He sighed. Maybe not ever.

"What's on your mind?" He asked.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You haven't been yourself since you got here." Hakoda replied.

"I did something awful, dad." He seated himself and rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know how to tell you and I don't know how to fix it."

Hakoda set his tools and knife down. Sokka almost urged him to pick it up so that all eyes weren't on him. "I can't give you advice if you don't tell me what you need advice on."

"Promise you won't hate me?"

Hakoda laughed, twisting Sokka's stomach into knots—how could he be laughing at a time like this? "Sokka, I could never hate you. Did I hate you when you hit your sister?"

"You were mad. You wouldn't even look at me." Sokka muttered. "You were afraid of me."

"Of course I was mad, just like I would have been if Katara impaled you with an icicle, but I didn't hate you. And I wasn't afraid of you. I was afraid for you."

"So am I." Sokka mumbled. "I did it again." And very quickly he clarified, "not Katara, someone else I cared about."

Hakoda clenched his jaw. "Is this person alright?"

"She's fine."

Hakoda cringed at, 'she'.

"Don't worry, she can handle me, she's a fighter. I think she took it better than Zuko would have." He tried to laugh, he truly wanted to do so at the thought, but felt that it would paint an awful image of him. "But I…I didn't want to hurt her."

Hakoda ruffled his own hair. "I know you didn't."

"Then why? Why do I keep hurting people I love?"

"Because you're hurt. You don't have any other way to release your anger." Hakoda paused. "Because you let it eat you up on the inside instead of telling anyone."

It sounded right. "How do you know? You're disappointed, aren't you? You don't want to see me again…"

"You know that that's not true, Sokka. How can I be mad at you when its my fault?"

Sokka crinkled his brows.

"I was never good at keeping my temper in check either. I know you like to see the best in me, but I'm sure you remember hearing your mother and I fight." Hakoda frowned, his stare growing distant. "Your mother was a fighter too. Rava forbid, she wasn't."

.oOo.

Azula could have said many things, resentful, spiteful, accusatory things. She started to, but between the woman's soft and imploring gaze and the day's endeavors, the princess could only bring herself to say, "a bit, yes." Ursa waited for her to elaborate. "You never visited me. Did you…do you even know that I was on drugs?"

The way her mother bit her cheek and nervously fumbled with her robes told Azula that she had no idea.

"I almost died." She added flatly.

"No one ever told me." Ursa replied.

"Not even Iroh?"

"Iroh knew." Ursa asked.

"He knew that I started, yes." Azula replied. "I stayed in my room, didn't that concern you?" She thought that it ought to have. It had concerned her and she was the one doing it. "Why didn't you even try to talk to me?"

"Would you have wanted me to?"

"Not at all." Azula folded her arms over her chest. "But I didn't want Sokka to bother me either. Nor Zuko…" Her mother hadn't fought for her, that was it. That was what bothered her. "You never did check up on me, even when I was a child."

"You know that Zuko needed me." Ursa argued.

"I need you too!" Azula snapped, almost startled by her own outburst. "He hurt me too."

"Your father was always good at doing that to people."

"You think I'm like him, don't you? That's why you're afraid. That's why you never tried to help me." Azula accused. She expected the woman to reach out and excuse herself, to say that she was never afraid and that she simply thought that Azula wouldn't have wanted her to intervene. It would have been so much easier if she had.

"You're right, I was afraid. I was afraid of my own child. Don't you think that, that bothers me? What kind of mother is afraid of her own little girl?"

.oOo.

His father, the man he had looked up to for so long was the same as he. Painfully the same, right down to having hurt his wife the day before the Fire Nation had killed her. At least, Sokka realized, he hadn't struck Suki before she departed. He wasn't mad, he wasn't disappointed, it seemed as though he already knew what Sokka was going to tell him. He was relived and thrilled all at once. He would accompany his father on another hunt where he promised to teach Sokka his methods of keeping himself in check. But that didn't alleviate his fear of going back to face the gang. To face Azula who was probably fuming that he had left at all on top of the punches he'd delivered her.

Maybe his father couldn't hate him. But Azula could.

She'd done it once before.


	45. Chapter 45

Sokka watched the last boat depart from the harbor. He clenched his fist and watched it grow ever distant. His father would be surprised to see him come home. He made a mission of taking the scenic routes, prolonging the trek home as much as he could. A few stars began glittering the sky with an icy cold brightness before his home came into view. In the sky above he could see the first dull illuminations of the arouras. He took a deep breath and continued to waddle over hills of snow, the stuff was coming down in large bursts now. The sky puffed small clouds of flakes into his face. Each one landed on him with a new glittering chill. He supposed he made it back just in time, there was going to be a big storm. It was only just the beginning and the winds were already growing violent. He could tell that they were in for a harsh season this year. With the wind to cover his cry he howled out in anger, he very well may have just missed the last boat of the season. He threw the door open with more force than intended.

"Sokka, what are you still doing here?"

"I couldn't do it." Sokka whispered. "I wanted to, but I was afraid."

Hakoda stroked his forehead. "Of course you were afraid, you have to use that to push yourself forward. You were afraid during our hunt weren't you? But what did you do?"

"I ran forward and went for it." It had been the most exhilarating feeling, all of that fear had turned into pure adrenaline that exploded into a wash of pride.

"And you were thrilled."

"I should have gotten onto that boat." Sokka groaned.

"It's too late to think about that now." Hakoda replied. "We might be cut off from the other nations for a month or so. That's a month you can use to think about what you're going to say to everyone when you get back."

Or I could be on my way to saying it right now, he cringed. "Is there any chance we can get another ship out?"

"Not even one." Bato cut in. "You're a good man, Sokka. Your words here are valued, but I'm not about to risk sending another sailor out in this." He motioned to the roaring wind.

Sokka rasped his knuckles against his forehead. "I can't believe I just watched them depart. I just let the opportunity go." And now the ocean was the only thing that kept him from resolving his dilemmas. He wished he could say that he was surprised.

.oOo.

The sun beat down on Azula's face. She had spent so much time huddled in her room away from its light, it would seem that she was making up for it now. Helping Zuko prepare for the dragon festival was a task for certain. This kind of work ought to be left for the servants, and yet it wasn't so. She and Zuko, Iroh and Ursa, they were servants during the dragon festival. Everyone served the dragons, it was a high honor to do so, and would be a great shame to be excluded from the preparation services. So the princess found herself hoisting up banners that outweighed her greatly, banners that strained her back as she tried to position them well. By this time her cheeks were a sore, sun-scorched pink and her neck nearly as red as the gown covering her shoulders. Zuko, wasn't in a much better state, with a sheen of sweat plastering his hair to his forehead as he pushed banquet tables into their positions. The greater amount of labor put into crafting the festival, the more praise one received form the dragon spirits. As much as Azula enjoyed that notion, she felt decently undignified having already put in thrice as much work as any of the actual servants. She huffed and resumed her task. This banner pole was particularly heavy and so awkwardly shaped that Azula wondered if she would ever get it erect.

"Need some help?"

Azula set the banner down once more. From Sokka or Chan she might have said yes. But it felt beneath her to accept it from a stranger. "I'm doing fine on my own." She lifted the pole again.

The boy watched her struggle for some time before commenting. "I can tell."

Azula gave an annoyed and haughty sniff before approaching the pole with renewed vigor. At last it stood tall. "Naturally, you can." She found herself the nearest pillar and leaned upon it, panting some. Her face was plenty red.

"Here." He offered her a water skin. She used it only to splash some of the cool liquid onto her face. The boy pushed a pair of golden glasses up his nose. Azula narrowed her eyes at him, assessing the boy. He was lean, perhaps a little too slender and had an array of freckles splayed over his face. Over his shoulder crawled a tiny white elephant-mouse. He looked up at the banner, reminding her that she needed to unfurl it. Tugging the rope binding it took only a little less force than it had to stand the banner up in the first place. But eventually it came loose, boasting brilliant red silk and an embroidered black and gold dragon. "I can't believe you got that thing up all by yourself." He paused, "I don't know why I can't believe it. You always perform better when challenged."

"What do you know about that?" Azula asked.

"A lotta stuff, I guess." The boy shrugged. "Like you how you made a point of sticking around the more Chan told you to leave…"

"Wire?"

He smiled, that crooked, lopsided smile.

"Sorry, I didn't recognize you without your layer of dirt and bugs."

"I miss my bugs. My ma doesn't though, she doesn't even know about Petro." The elephant-mouse came to rest in his palm, he stroked it tentatively with the other hand. "She doesn't like animals…" He frowned and then looked up at her, studying her more closely. "I almost didn't recognize you without the Ruby Tears." He concluded.

"Is that right?"

"You don't look like you're going to die anymore."

A fair assessment, Azula supposed. "If I have to put up one more banner, I might just."

"You made it home." He remarked. "So you can't tell me what's going on with my friends."

"They're here in the Capital, actually. At least Khoza and Yoona are. The last I heard, the rest of them were heading to Ember Island with Chan." She paused. "Perhaps I can get them to come back, at least to see you."

"Why wouldn't they want to come back."

"I might have hurt Chan's feelings." Azula mumbled. "It's a long story."

"Great! I could use one of those, the stories my folks tell me aren't very exciting when they do talk to me."

Azula wasn't one for recounting her struggles but Wire was so innocently curious. Behind that bright eagerness, the boy seemed sad, maybe lonely. So she caved and decided to detail her endeavors from the withdrawals to the mind games. She found that she rather enjoyed sharing it, hearing from her own lips that she was finally better off than before.

.oOo.

It was driving him crazy, being cooped up like this. Under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed it. Being wrapped up in furs by the light of a fire, all nice and cozy next to Katara with a steaming bowl of sea prune stew and their father's wild tales of the Water Tribe in his youth. This was not such a night. There was a fire going, sure, and he had a warm meal and lots of furs. But Katara was horribly missing and there were no fun tales, just the merciless wind whistling over the shelter and his father and Bato discussing how ill-prepared they were for an early winter. He stirred his seaweed noodles absent-mindedly. The more irrational side of him screamed at him to acquire himself his own boat and try to make it to the Fire Nation. The rational side considered Hakoda's advice.

What would he say to Azula when he saw her again? Would he just let her speak first? He could already hear her berating him and threatening to stick him in a prison cell—next to Ozai just to add an extra kick. He could apologize but how unfulfilling and hollow would that be?

No matter how hard he thought it through, he couldn't come up with any form of apology that seemed adequate. Worse over, he couldn't even promise himself that he could refrain from lashing out at the woman again.

He was both afraid of her and afraid of what he could do to her. More than anything he was afraid that he would find a way to cope with the roots of his problem. Maybe if he made amends with her, Azula would be so kind as to take him to the Forgetful Valley. Snow whipped against the side of his house reminding him that no matter which option he chose, he would have to wait.

.oOo.

Wire seemed to have enjoyed her story. Relaying it had distracted her from the pulsing in her sore muscles and the irritating sunburn that tingled on her neck.

"At least your ma is trying." Wire said when she had caught up to her current conundrums. "Mine, she doesn't like me much, she never did. So she never tries."

"She doesn't hurt you?"

"Not anymore." Wire replied, "she mostly just ignores me now." He tapped his foot awkwardly on the ground. "Since I went to the Ash Pit she's been treating me like I'm dirty, I think she keeps me around just to keep people from gossiping."

"The elephant-mouse probably doesn't help." Azula couldn't help the remark. "Since my opinion matters more than hers, I don't think you're dirty."

"She's actually kinda cute." He held Petro out to her. Azula flinched away. "Just hold her, I gave her a bath and everything." Before Azula could protest, she had an elephant-mouse scampering over her arm. Wire retracted his hand. "So are you going to look for him?"

"Who? Sokka?" She asked, swiftly catching the rodent before it could reach her neck. It squeaked and squirmed—in joy or discomfort, Azula couldn't decipher.

"Yeah." Wire answered.

"He doesn't want to be found. He'll come home when he does." Azula stated flatly.

"You said that he searched for you." Wire pointed out.

"Yes." She agreed.

"Shouldn't you do that for him?"

"I'm sure he'd be thrilled to seem me standing at his door…or the door of whoever he's staying with." Azula replied sarcastically. "He left because of me, I know you heard that part of my story."

Wire shrugged. "Chan said that you have a habit of inviting yourself to places and staying when you're told to leave. Why break it now?"

Azula blinked. "I'm starting to like Petro more than I like you." The elephant-mouse twitched its ears.

"Good, 'cause she likes you." After a moment's thought he added, "So does the fish man."

Azula crinkled her nose. "Fish man. I'll have to let him know that you said that. Whenever he gets back."

"You mean whenever you find him."

"Wire, I have other matters to foresee. This festival for one. My mother, my uncle…" She pointed to her crown.

"I think that Fire Lord Zuko can handle the crown alone for a few more days."

"And my mother? We haven't finished our conversation."

"Take her with you." Wire replied simply.

"She doesn't want to go on some blind chase. Besides, Aang, Katara, and Toph are already looking for him. Well, Toph isn't exactly looking per say, but you get the point."

"Great, you can cover all of the places they haven't looked yet." With a silly grin, he took Petro back.

"Jun-Hisoka! Jun, there you are!" The woman had such a voice that Azula loathed. It oozed with drama and gave off an air of false pomp. "Jun-Hisoka what did I tell you about wandering to far from mommy? I can't have you running away and playing in the trash again." She took his hand and Azula could see his face bunch up in discomfort. And then to Azula she dipped her head. "My apologies, Fire Lord Azula. I hope he hasn't bothered you, he's a bit of a pest, running about, making a mess of things."

Azula had a collection of responses at the ready. Both 'he's bothering me alright, just not how you think' and a very contradictory, 'he's not the one bothering me' among them. But instead she settled on, "he's not a bother at all." She supposed a well-intended fib couldn't hurt, "he was just helping me put up a few banners."

Something in the woman's jaw worked, she was skeptical, but it wasn't her place to pose any questions. Instead and with the slightest twitch of her lips she turned Jun…to Wire and grumbled, "put that filthy creature down and off with you."

Head hung low, he set Petro down and let his mother tug him away. The critter stared at Azula with its teeny nose twitching. Azula sighed, she supposed it couldn't hurt to hang onto the elephant-mouse until she ran into Wire again. If nothing else, Toph would get a kick out of the creature. There was only one more banner to arrange and then she could go back inside and see what the others had come up with.

Anticipating no leads at all, she didn't know what to do when Katara declared that they'd found something. Something they wouldn't have found if Katara wasn't such a sore loser and pointed out that Toph couldn't have possibly won because she couldn't read.

They had found his signature in one of the logs.


	46. Chapter 46

He was in the Water Tribe, he was home. Azula wondered if it would even be in good taste to just show up unannounced at his door. It was just one more reason to let him wander back to her. The princess rubbed a healthy amount of aloe onto the back of her neck and dabbed a fair amount across her cheeks. How odd would it be to wear a sunburn in the Water Tribe? Still decently sore from the day prior, she stretched herself out on her bed and started at the ceiling until a few knocks roused her from it. They were too gentle to be Zuko's or Toph's, but not light enough to belong to Aang or Ursa. So that left Katara. Azula fixed her robe that had fallen loose and made her way towards the door. Upon twisting the knob, the princess found herself in the company of two people. When the firebender at last felt compelled to move, Iroh entered first followed by her mother. The man arranged his tea set upon her dresser. The princess frowned to herself, she didn't exactly have time for neither a lecture nor another long and heartfelt discussion. If for no other reason than to just move things along, she was almost content to let bygones be bygones.

"Here." Iroh placed a cup in Azula's hand.

Azula took a quick drink and set it down. "Exactly how long is this going to take, I have a mission that needs completing." Completing was a bit of a stretch, she had a mission that needed starting. "The longer I wait, the harder it will be."

"I think that we need to talk." Iroh stated flatly. Azula winced, his talks were never quick.

"Can we have this discussion elsewhere? Perhaps on a boat. Preferably to the Southern Water Tribe?"

"This late at night?" Ursa asked.

"The docks will be less crowded." Azula pointed out.

.oOo.

The snow had stopped, leaving the world around him quiet and still. A frigid glittering tundra they was deceptively impassable. Sokka chanced the journey into the outside world regardless. Since he was a boy he longed to see if the land's lore was true; did an iridescent spirit elk really emerge on the dawn of the first winter storm? He was skeptical but itching for something new to think about, so he would search out this elk. He bundled himself abundantly and heaved his way out of his home. The first rays of the morn befell the fresh layers of snow, he surveyed the world around him trying to pick out the safest route and any sign that an elk may have passed through. He directly faced the sunlight, thinking that maybe the mythical beast would appear within the rays. That seemed like an elky thing to do, not that he knew much about the elks. He took one step forward, successfully driving himself into a snow bank. He grumbled to himself, remembering at once how much he loathed those things. Wedging himself out was a timely matter and gave him time to gather that it would be wise to leave his father a note saying that he'd be out chasing imaginary deer.

And he was off again bounding over the snow. With the sun now quite high and no sign of the elk he had no real purpose for being out and about when the rest of his village was just beginning their morning routines. But he didn't care, he enjoyed not having a purpose for once. He put his adventure to a stop when he came to a towering glacier with an opening large enough to venture into. He thought to explore it, but only briefly. He hadn't the proper equipment to get very far.

As he shuffled away he couldn't help but wonder where his sense of adventure had gone. A few years back he might have dived right in and played it by ear.

.oOo.

Not a seafaring soul desired to take Azula in the direction of the Water Tribe. "Do you know much about the Water Tribes and their seasons?" One such captain questioned. "With all due respect Fire Lord Azula, anyone who suggests going there at this time of the year surely doesn't." At the slanting of her eyes he quickly added, "it's understandable, I don't recall you ever having gone there to see the season for yourself."

"Then maybe you'd like to pleasure me with the view." Azula suggested.

Save for Zu-Zu and friends, no one had ever refused her before, but this man was shaking his head so violently she thought he might snap his own neck. "Not a chance. The storms brewing that way are enough to freeze a man right to his soul."

Azula gave a small hiss and was about to make her a request a demand when a hand fell on her shoulder. "One way or another, I'm getting to the Water Tribe, mother." She muttered.

"You'll have to find a less timid captain."

With her patience wearing thin Azula scowled, "then find me one."

She supposed she shouldn't have doubted the woman. Granted Ursa's find was a rather shady looking woman with a monstrous height, but the sailor seemed willing. After a slur of slick words and a very bountiful bribe anyhow. No less, the princess found herself aboard a rather study ship with a weary mother and an uncle who seemed very accustomed to shoddy trade affairs—no doubt Zu-Zu's doing.

With nowhere to retreat to, Iroh began his pestering. Azula didn't realize that she resented him more than Ursa until he began speaking. Her mother never seemed to see the best in her, but this wasn't something reserved for Azula alone. Iroh, he tried to be compassionate towards the worst of people, and still couldn't muster that much up for her. "Why am I the only person you ever saw as truly evil?"

She guessed the answer before his reply had been made. She and Ozai had been one and the same to him. His relationship with her father was damaged irreversibly. Ozai was a completely cruel and hateable man and by extension she was the same.

She was in for a long boat ride.

.oOo.

Though the elk had, expectedly, been nothing more than a tall-tale, Sokka didn't come home empty handed, he had stopped along the river at first just to gain a sense of direction and then to give himself a challenge. He'd gone spear fishing before but never had he never tried it with nothing but a knife alone. He may have only caught one thing but it was still something. Being as the winter had struck so suddenly, every ration counted. He could fend for himself, if nothing else. His walk was beginning to take its toll though, the cold was finally biting at him hard enough to draw attention. Even through his mittens he felt the first piercings of chill. He hustled along the riverside, covering as much ground as he could. Home wasn't too far off from there, spying a frozen waterfall, he could confirm such.

He ought not to gander, but the crystalline scenery compelled him. Icicles taller than his father accented the cliffside, sparkling white like earthy prehistoric teeth. Other icicles were more translucent like wintery chandeliers. He stood marveling at the majesty of the frozen cascade, after so long, he had forgotten how splendid the arctic views were. He followed the jutting lines of the cliff to the very top.

In the dying rays of the sun, stood a great white creature almost washed out by the white of the snow around it. It's antlers could have easily been passed over, mistaken for another thicket of icicles. It tossed its head from side to side, displaying shimmering fur that when hit in the right manner, appeared more silver and pastel blue.

Sokka blinked as the creature observed him with deep blue eyes. At his next blink it was gone.

Later in the evening, when the winter resumed itself in full, he had himself wrapped in a generous bundle of silks. Over a helping of Arctic hen, he relayed to Gran and Hakoda of his fishing success (he had given his father the honor of eating his catch) and of the beautiful beast with the sapphire eyes.

"A fine catch indeed." Hakoda gave him a thumbs up. "Tasty too."

Gran snickered. "And there you were, insisting that I was just treating you like a kid and telling fairytales. Fairytales aren't for children, dear. They can be guides or bringers of luck, they can be wild and dangerous."

"Alright, Gran! I believe you." Sokka smiled awkwardly.

"Wonderful, now how about you go let Paku know that?" Usually if Sokka believed in something, Paku would too. And if Paku dropped his skepticism, Sokka was inclined to follow.

"I think I can do that." Sokka nodded. A fresh lump of sadness gathered in his throat. Katara would have loved to have seen that elk. She always was more fond of folklore than he. And Azula. He longed to tell her about it, he couldn't really see her caring—in fact she would probably ask if he had taken some of her Ruby Tears for his own—but still she would get a kick out of the story. He missed her, he missed causing her to smile, missed comforting her. Instead, he became the reason she needed comforting. He missed all of them.

The door rattled in its frame. "I should bolt that thing better." Hakoda noted. The last thing the man wanted was to wake up to a heap of snow in his front room. Again, the door shuddered some.

"I don't think that's the wind, dad." Sokka stood.

"What kind of fool lurks in this weather?" Paku questioned.

Sokka tugged the door open it swung forward without warning. "Firebenders, Paku."

"Naturally." He rolled his eyes.

Sokka on the other hand was both thoroughly delighted and horrified all at once. Standing in the doorway, shivering softly, under mountains of clothes was Azula. Behind her were Fire Lady Ursa and Iroh. Azula's hair fluttered and whipped into her face, a face that was unmistakably the image of pissed off.


	47. Chapter 47

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to get here." Azula complained. Having been in the warmth for a solid twenty minutes, the firebender was only just now beginning to strip her gloves. "You just leave without a word?" Covering all of her bases and leaving him no room to argue she was quick to continue, "at least when I did it, I stayed within a walking distance." She folded her arms over her chest. "But you? You ran really far. Is an entire ocean enough distance? Or do you need to go even further?"

"Apparently I need to go farther." He replied boldly.

"Try it, Sokka." She challenged, her eyes glittering fiercely in the firelight.

Honestly Sokka expected a little more back up, but his father was having a hearty chuckle in the background and Pakku wanted no part. Gran had already struck up a conversation with Iroh, one that Pakku was trying desperately to enter. And Ursa, he knew he wouldn't get any help there, not with the woman still well into the ass-kissing phase of repairing her relationship with Azula. He groaned, knowing that he was staring at his future.

"I'm sure if you tried hard enough you could managed to stumble a few feet before falling into a snowbank." Azula pressed.

"I didn't mean to run away." He tried.

Azula laughed in a way that fell somewhere in between genuinely amused and thoroughly vexed. "Didn't mean to? Right, yes, you walked very obviously out of the palace and it just so happened that no one heard you say goodbye. But not before you accidently collected the items you needed into your suitcase. And then simply by chance you wandered—very obliviously—onto a boat and they forgot to make sure you had a ticket. It wasn't until you were in the middle of the ocean that you had a strinking epiphany; 'oh no, I'm on a boat, how did I get here?' You're an ass."

Sokka blinked. He had to calm her down, Rava forbid he found himself snowed in with a very enraged firebender for who knew how long. "I was going to come back." He tried lamely.

"When? Two months from now? Two years? As soon as you received word that I would be taking a vacation?"

"I was actually going to go yesterday but I…"

"Cowered away like a child?" Azula finished for him.

Sokka flinched, this woman was relentless especially now that she was fully recovered and had all of her wits about her. Despite the bitterness of the words, he found them comforting. Everything about her tone reminded him of how Katara fought with Aang. Even so, she stormed right up to him before stating almost unfeelingly, "oh, you forgot this." At that she shoved something into his arms. "It would be a shame to have to think of me, right?" She pushed her way past, leaving him alone to uncover the portraits he had so deliberately left behind. She came to a halt, cocked her head to the look back at him and added, "don't worry, I'm sure that you left those behind by accident too." He wondered when she would calm herself enough to remember that she didn't have a room of her own to re-treat to. When she didn't come back down the hall, he was left to assume that she had picked a room to claim as her own for the stay.

Sokka pleadingly met his father's eyes. "This is something you have to work out on your own, Sokka."

Even with all of those biting remarks he could tell that Azula was holding back. He had the safety of the crowd, he couldn't imagine that she'd get to the root of her feelings nor to the fullest intensity of them in so much company.

.oOo.

Azula found herself the coziest looking room and seated herself against the wall. Out of sight and safe from scrutiny the woman sulked and fumed with an almost admirable intensity. She folded her arms across her chest; she had endured a raging sea, her crying sea sick mother her shrieked with each wave that rocked the boat, a crass sailor who knew cusses that could make Bo-Rem and Yoko blush, and Iroh with his pretentious speeches. He quickly found that a boat in the center of a rolling, biting sea was not the setting for a heartfelt session of hugging and making up. Equally as unfit for a tear-jerk moment was the middle of a frosty tundra. She had trudged in knee deep snow for miles as flurries whipped furiously in her face, they were lucky Zuko's wild Avatar chase had given Iroh experience in the Sothern Tribe. Azula on the other hand hadn't the faintest clue how to navigate the snow and stumbled on numerous occasions. She'd watched Ursa land flat on her face—there was a sense of comradery in their shared suffering. Her nose was still red and her hands still trembled. All of this and the stupid Water Tribe trash, absolute hog-baboon, boomerang wielding, oaf only had stupider excuses. She was going to kill the man with her own bare hands.

She listened for footsteps or any sign that Sokka was pursuing her. But even in his own house, it would seem that he wasn't going to confront her. It was just like him to have no dialog planned, even with a week's worth of alone time. It would seem that he would be taking the rest of the night to come up with some kind of excuse for himself.

The room she had picked had no bed, instead there was a small nest of pillows and blankets. She knew it was Sokka's the moment she nuzzled herself into it—it had his scent. She tossed his pillows to the side, being as he didn't always smell pleasant, and substituted her own—which in her not at all biased opinion, did smell nice. She also cast his blanket aside for her own, but the furs, she utilized. She curled herself up in them. The journey had been quite taxing, especially unrecovered from putting together the festival. She was exhausted and peeved, a dangerous combination that had her longing for her tobacco. She thought that she might have caved and took a drag just to calm her nerves. She counted herself lucky that her kiseru was an ocean away, lest she acted upon the impulse. All at once, she wondered if that kind of thinking...that kind of urge would ever truly leave her. She frowned to herself and burrowed deeper into the furs.

Truth be told, she had been prepared to fight with Sokka for a few hours, instead he let her storm off and fume. She found that her mind was no longer on him though. No, she was dwelling on Iroh. Noble, kind-hearted, compassionate Iroh. What a joke, she mused to herself. The man hadn't a scrap of it when it came to her. And unlike Ursa… mother, she corrected herself, you won't shoulder any of the blame. For someone who supposedly lied all the time, she sure had trouble lying to herself. It was true, she had a fair role—a very fair role—in destroying most of her relationships or preventing them from beginning at all. But it wasn't all her. Yet Iroh seemed to place everything upon her, mostly he demonized her on behalf of Zu-Zu. He resented her for how she had treated him. He accused her of being heartless among other things for many of the things she had said to her brother, and he accused her without considering who had put the words into her mouth in the first place. Agni forbid she point out how much influence Ozai had. That was only more proof that the two were one and the same. It took a swift intervention from Ursa to end much of the bickering and what command her mother lacked was made up by the ferocity of the ocean. Soon their arguments were drowned out by the trashing waves and survival was the only thing on their minds. But here, wrapped in furs and still shivering some, the fight was fresh on her mind. She didn't know who she wanted to confront first, Sokka or her uncle.

She chose to bother with neither. Her body cried for sleep in a way comparable to when it was riddled with Ruby Tears. It might be best to sleep on matters anyhow. Azula drew the blankets closer to her.

.oOo.

He hoped that a night of rest would pacify the princess some. The night before he was completely prepared for a cozy night's rest in his furs but when he got to his room he found the woman in question bundled up in them, looking rather comfortable. He'd heard many sayings about disturbing sleeping dragons and had no intention of putting them to the test. So he had carefully picked up the pillows and blankets he discarded and found himself the most inviting looking part of the floor and threw his blanket over himself.

He woke up to the brightest skies—as if the winter had suddenly passed. And to think, Bato and Pakku had be so adamant about some fearsome winter that would cut them off from the rest of the world for months! Sokka fashioned himself some leftover arctic hen. Earning himself, from Gran, and chiding, "what kind of breakfast is arctic hen?" He shrugged and continued his meal.

Azula didn't bother with him until later that afternoon. Up to that point, he could hear shouts and hollers exchanged between she and Iroh. A heated discussion that ended with Azula emerging with more fire than the night before. Her strides were taken in near stomps as she edged closer. Sokka gulped, her course couldn't be set in any other direction than in his own. He groaned to himself, mentally thanking Iroh for getting her nice and heated for him.

"So what excuses do you have for me today?" Azula asked. "Let me guess, your arms are afflicted with random spasms and that's how you ended up shoving me?" He winced at the volume for now Ursa's curiosity was peeked.

Sokka drew out a long sigh, this was going to be a long discussion. "No, my hand didn't slip." He admitted. "I hit you. I'm sorry I just lost control." He was hoping for at least some empathy.

"Clearly." She agreed. "So how did you handle it? You ran away."

He had to admit he was growing a tad irritated. He may not have come up with anything to say to her beforehand, but he didn't anticipated taking all of the blame. "What about you? You could have talked to me. Instead you cheated on me with pretty man Chan."

At this she rolled her eyes. Folding her arms over her chest she refuted, "which wouldn't have happened if you didn't strike me first." Propping herself against the wall she continued, "multiple times."

"You were toying with me. You didn't even like him, you just wanted to get back at me."

"Fair is fair." Azula shrugged.

"And when I tried to confide in my friends, you took them."

She hesitated. Almost questioningly she argued, "they're my friends too."

"Because of me!" He pointed out. "You're welcome. Did you consider that I might not have run away if you didn't put on that dramatic victim act." Azula opened her mouth to protest but he quickly cut her off. "Helpless and sulky wasn't a good look on you." He knew he had screwed up the moment he started feeling victorious. With her, his victories always came with some type of defeat. The firebender never did take insults well. Her face went forebodingly blank before she roughly brushed passed him and stormed away from the shelter. The wind was whipping at her lashes and against her bare hands. She found a deceptively sturdy looking patch of snow, successfully getting herself wedged in. With some tugging she pried herself free, the momentum carried her back where she lie face up in the snow. It was at this point she remembered her gloves and retreated back inside to fetch them. The display was almost hilarious. But given the circumstance and the look of sheer frustration—that bordered on distress—on her face sapped the humor right out of the moment.

He heard Ursa speak something to her very quietly. But she wouldn't hear it. Instead she snatched an extra layer of clothing and made her way outside again. He supposed he would give her some alone time. Frankly, he couldn't believe that she was running away after having yelled at him for doing just that.

"That went well." He muttered to his Pakku who, by all means, was just trying to enjoy his seaweed noodles. The man simply blew at the steaming bowl. It wasn't his problem anyways.

From the other room he could make out the beginings of a fresh argument that started with a, "your son hit my daughter, just how did you raise that boy?"

Sokka's heart sank further. He thought that the rift between Ursa and Azula might have been a blessing to the world, they were a relentless, witty, terror team. He didn't know that the world could have handled a good fourteen years of that. He slumped down in his chair wondering how steep the price of his victory would be this time.

When letting her go, it hadn't crossed his mind at all that she would actually wander away from the village. When letting her go he hadn't assessed the weather nor any of the signs that it would change. It wasn't until Bato came in with a warning of a harsh blizzard brewing, that he knew just how costly his victory may become.


	48. Chapter 48

It had been such a foolish and reckless move and she knew it. She knew it the minute she stepped out and toppled forward, but she had already put her pride on the line and she would stick to her decision. She drew the hood over her head and trudged on. The village was even smaller than she thought it would be. In due time it would probably span out, from the looks of it a construction project was already well underway. Azula stuffed her mittened hands into her pockets and gazed at some food stalls. The pungent stench of sea prune stew warded her off immediately. Body still warm with anger, the temperature hadn't yet registered. She had other matters on her mind. Just like Iroh, Sokka was blaming her. Unlike her uncle, Sokka was probably right. All of her own accusations she put forward to convince herself that it wasn't her fault that he'd left, but she couldn't persuade Sokka anymore than she could persuade herself. Deep in thought she found herself wandering away from the village and the vile dead-fish smell wafting from it.

She wouldn't go too far.

She would only go straight.

.oOo.

Sokka was silently thankful that his village was so small, there weren't too many places for the princess to hide there. Granted he had given her plenty of time to move about as he tried to explain himself to her fuming mother. He couldn't have been more thankful for Iroh's intervention. Though side-eyeing each other the entire time they agreed to let their children fight their own battles. Azula had an hour on him, he just hoped that, that hour had been enough to put her back into a more rational state of mind. He first checked the clothing stands and then the food stalls. And when he found her browsing through none of the shops he began walking around the residential area, still no resentful firebender.

He made his way back to the food stall and to the merchant inquired, "Have you seen a firebender? Kinda short, really mad."

The saleswoman shook her head. "Didn't even realize we had any firebenders here."

"Okay, thanks." He muttered dejectedly. He repeated his question to various others. Only one person mentioned seeing Azula but that was as far as the lead went. Again he found himself utterly shocked, she had really left the security of the village? He rubbed his temples, trying not to stress himself out too much. She is smart, resourceful and the like. He couldn't see her losing her way and yet he could never picture someone so agile stumbling over—unless she had a drink or two. But she had, the Water Tribes were unfamiliar territory and he worried that she was overestimating herself or underestimating the fury of the land or both at once.

The snow was beginning to fall again, he was sure that she would be absolutely thrilled.

He reentered the house to ill news spoken in hushed whispers. "Are you sure?" Ursa asked again for what he assumed was reaching an uncountable number of times.

"I've lived here all of my life, Fire Lady Ursa, I know how to spot a blizzard and I know how to tell when it's a bad one. I've been warning Hakoda for days now to call off his hunting trip…" he turned to Hakoda, "I expect a thank you when the wind starts howling and you're not out in it."

"He's going to be out in it." Sokka grimaced. "Because she's not in the village."

.oOo.

Azula squinted against the arctic wind. Snowflakes whirled in front of her face. Earlier in the day the flakes were small and fluttering, almost serene like cold dandelion fluffs. They were quickly stirring into an intense frenzy and bringing about a more frigid temperature. The firebender herself was growing colder. She had thought that her nose was red the night before, she cupped her hands over it trying to get at least a little more warmth. It had been rather mild just that morning, the whether was shifting at a rate comparable to Sokka's moods. So she found that she couldn't see much at all beyond the length of her arm. Even if she couldn't it probably wouldn't matter.

Everything looked the same.

White and barren and cruel.

Lifeless.

Azula shivered, she had only gone straight, but somewhere along the lines, what straight meant was growing ambiguous and she wasn't quite sure that she truly had been going straight at all. She simply trudged in the direction she thought she had come from. North, south, east, west, that also mattered little—none of the four bore any sign that she had been there.

She removed her mittens to offer herself some fire. Immediately the cold snapped at her hands. Her fingers had already begun to tingle with the cold and without the coverage of those mittens, she could see how concerningly read they were growing. After only a moment of firebending she let the flame die and put her mittens back on—the urge to set herself on fire just to be-rid of the cold was alarmingly strong.

Azula sniffled and shivered, wondering just how long it had been since she was out there. She already knew that 'too long' was a sufficient answer. The sun dipping lower in the sky only served to reiterate. Walking on seemed to be growing harder as the depth of the snow rose and her own body temperature lowered. She had to find somewhere, anywhere that wasn't the wide open, merciless tundra.

.oOo.

The ocean, the snow, everything that made a Water Tribesfolk a Water Tribesfolk were the things that kept taking from him. Taking and never giving. Again he found himself to blame. He'd fought Suki and she ended up at the bottom of the ocean. He fought Azula and she would probably rest beneath a mountain of snow. Bato refused to join the search party, "no sense in all of us dying out there on a fool's errand." He had said. And so it was he, his father, Ursa, and Iroh. Pakku had joined them for some time, but retreated to check on Gran. Conditions were only worsening. Even Hakoda was seeming reluctant by then, reiterating that if they go any further they might become lost themselves. He could call out to Azula, but the wind would only out cry him. The landscape before him stretched on and on without a landmark in sight.

.oOo.

For all of those weeks spent alone in the Forgetful Valley surrounded by strange and menacing presences, Azula had never dreaded nightfall more than she did in present. Night's awakening would bring a piercing chill like no other. She couldn't tell if her eyes were watering from the unrelenting wind or from complete despair. She was a tough woman, stronger than most, but she couldn't fight the elements at their rawest. Her entire body quaked but she couldn't afford to let herself pitch over, Agni forbid if she did, she would never get up again. She pulled her coat closer to herself, as if the gesture would help at all.

The heat of her fire chakara was cooling rapidly in her stomach. She guessed that her inner fire was almost smothered in full. She removed her mittens again, her hands had never looked so red, it almost hurt to bring fire to them. She held the flames hazardously close to her face, it was better than the cold. But it was not enough. She tried stuffing her hands back into the mittens but it was difficult. So difficult. She could barely feel her fingers at all. And her cheeks were beginning to sting, soon they would lose feeling too.

She ought to cry out in anguish, but there was no point. She didn't want to let the cold in anymore either.

Azula squinted, off in the distance she could make out a massive structure jutting from the snow. With what little energy she had conserved, she pushed herself towards it.

.oOo.

Ursa and Iroh had been forced to retreat. Ursa wouldn't leave without a time-wasting fight, but in the end Iroh managed to drag her back to the shelter as she muttered something about how she'd just only begun to love her daughter as she should and that it wasn't right for the spirits to do this. But she was growing to weak herself, to be of any help.

It was just he and his father again. His father who was casting sympathetic looks at him as if Azula were already dead.

Deep down he knew that Bato was probably right, this was a hopeless quest. Perhaps it would be best to retreat after all. The sooner he accepted defeat, the sooner he could get the mourning process over with again. "I can't do it again, dad." He whispered. "I just can't."

Hakoda squeezed his shoulder.

He quickly swiped at his tears before they could freeze to his cheek. Upon looking up, with his vision freshly clear, he could see the elk. The elk with the dazzlingly blue eyes.

.oOo.

She was growing weak with cold and her body was too frosty-ridden to produce any flame. The snow clung to her lashes and hair. The wetness of it had her locks sticking together. She was shaking violently, it was like the seizure all over again and just as uncontrollable. But she had made it. She huddled herself inside of the glacier. She couldn't guarantee that nothing vile dwelled within nor could she promise herself that the ice wouldn't crack and fall upon her. But the absolute certainty that she would die out in the open, pushed her into the icy shelter.

With no other moves at her disposal she lay down on the ground and let the snow that drifted in cover her. A light dusting of it covered the upturned parts of her body in due time. At first all she could do was shiver. And soon even that became too much effort, so she stopped doing that too.


	49. Chapter 49

The world around them seemed somehow silent, the sound of the wind no longer in the foreground. It was just a quiet falling snow. A pale blue glow encased the elk as it looked on. It pawed at the snow under it, leaving no indents at all upon the natural blanket. Its fur glittered and glimmered in shades of silver, white and blue depending on how the moon fell upon it. The elk dipped its head in a shimmering wave and Sokka slowly closed the distance between he and the elegant spectral animal. And it spoke to him with a voice like crashing waves. A voice that ought not to belong to an animal at all. A feminine voice. He furrowed his brows, he'd never known a female elk to have antlers. No less, that was what was before him. When it beckoned him to follow it, he recognized the voice. It was a voice he thought he'd never hear again, as soft as the moon that accented its translucent antlers.

"Yue?" Sokka asked hustling to catch up.

"This way." The elk took a turn towards the east.

Though disappointed with the lack of confirmation, he followed with Hakoda in tow. He prayed to whoever would listen, that the elk wasn't leading him astray. He could see her breaths coming out in puffs of smoke. Unlike he and his father, the elk was unburdened by the walk and had led them to the glacier he'd found the day before with ease. She paused at the entrance and waited for Sokka to catch up. "You want us to go in there?" He panted.

"It's not what I want you to do." The elk answered with all the softness of Yue. "It's what you want to do." She entered the opening. The only light they had, came from her ethereal body. He hoped that she would stick around long enough to lead him home.

He didn't have to venture very far into the glacier at all. The elk came to a halt but he kept wandering. Entranced by the glittering ice around him and the various shapes trapped within, he almost forgot how cold he was. Just like Aang as he'd first seen him, Sokka spied bison beneath the ice and mammoth creatures he'd never heard of before alongside a collection of ancient trinkets and old age hunting gear. He very nearly tripped over the woman bunched up on the ground. "Azula." He whispered. In the elk's light he could see her hair practically froze to her face. Her body was coated in ice and snow and she barely stirred at all. He muttered her name again before dropping to his knees and scooping her up. She was so terribly slack, her pulse so faint. Despite her condition he found himself relieved, at least she had a chance. And he had a chance to make things right. He hugged her to himself. He looked to the elk. "Help her?" He didn't know if that was even within the elk's abilities. It stooped low and touched an antler to her forehead. A burst of warmth washed over the princess but it faded quickly and she didn't awaken. He thanked the elk regardless, more so for its keen sense of direction. It strolled back in the direction of the glacier's mouth. Sokka was reluctant to bring the princess back into the frigid world outside of the glacier.

.oOo.

Azula awoke to find herself buried under a mountain of blankets. Blankets that did everything to warm her and little to ease the feelings of dread. She'd heard tell of men and women lost in the biting cold only to come back with bluish-black dead limbs. Limbs that had to be taken off. She still couldn't feel her fingers and toes. She should have just given Sokka a pass, if she had none of this would have happened. He wasn't used to being alone—couldn't tolerate it either—so he went somewhere where he wouldn't be alone. Somewhere where people didn't see him in a tainted light. She knew what it was like to be seen as a monster…

She closed her eyes again, feeling sore and dizzy.

She must have drifted away again. When she woke up for a second time, she was cradled in Sokka's arms. Apparently only a little less wiped than she, his head dipped down as much as it could without him slumping over entirely. She could feel his breaths fall upon her as clearly as she could feel his arm propping her head up and the other beneath the bend of her legs. He had bundled her up even tighter, she almost couldn't move within all of the furs he'd tossed over her. If he was trying to keep her from dashing out into the snow again, he was doing a stellar job of it. She tried to untangle herself from the jungle of blankets, waking Sokka in the process. "Here." He mumbled, unraveling some of the blankets. With her arms free she flexed her fingers in front of her face. She still couldn't feel them, but she could moved them, which would have to do for the moment. Sokka took her arms and positioned them around his neck. "Don't do that to me again." He said as he pulled her closer. "I don't know what I would have done if you died too."

"I'll do what I want." Azula grumbled. She was still bitter but at the same time thankful. Content knowing that he'd sought her out despite the high-risk conditions, yet angry that he'd pushed her to storm out in the first place.

"Do you want to go outside again?"

"Absolutely not." Azula replied, rubbing her head against his neck. She was supposed to be yelling at him and making his life generally difficult. But he was warm and she wanted to be warm. She had so many insults and solid points left to be spoken. But he was caring and she needed solace. She was too drained to fight him anyways—she'd still win if she tried to berate him, but she'd rather fight when she was at peak health.

"I'm glad you're okay." She felt a kiss on her ear. She was supposed to swat him away, that's what she came to do—at least until she got a better apology. Instead she let him rearrange the layout of the furs and tuck her back in.

"I'm going to destroy you. I swear I am." She spoke half-heartedly.

"You do that." Sokka answered as he threw the covers over himself. He huddled closer to her and set his arm over her side. He lie closer than he had to her in a long while. He pressed his forehead to hers and waited for her to fall asleep once more.

.oOo.

She was so delirious that she had actually taken the sea prune stew. He watched her face bunch up in disgust as she realized what she had just eaten and then she pushed the bowl away, crossing her arms and pouting. There was a hint of betrayal in her eyes. "Sorry, that one was mine." Sokka took the bowl and gave Azula, her real lunch. He figured that a warm douse of imported vegetable soup would help her some. Her nose was still red, her eyes tired, she looked completely miserable. Coughing a few times, she accepted the soup. He realized then that this was probably the first time that the princess ever had a real cold. She pulled up the blanket that was slowly slipping away from her shoulders.

"This is all your fault." She sniffled. "Completely your fault."

"Right, I was the one who told you to leave the village." He quipped. "Just eat your soup, I worked hard on it."

"No wonder it tastes like something died in it."

All in all she seemed to be in an extremely sour mood. He couldn't say he was surprised, she didn't strike him as the cute and sleepy type of sick person. Especially since it was her first one. He would let her complain. "You know, your mom was looking for you too. We had to force her to go back."

"Yes." Azula nodded. "We've made some progress."

"She was the one who gave you all of those blankets, not me." Sokka pointed out. "You should have seen her face when she saw you."

"It was probably priceless..."

"She was crying." He replied. "She was worried about you."

"Exactly." Azula muttered. "Priceless." She set her empty bowl to the side before falling victim to a rather harsh coughing fit. Upon its passing, she buried her head in her arms. He stoked her hair. "Going to kill you for this." She repeated her first sentiment.

"Good luck." He laughed. He expected a weak slap or a punch or a kick under the table. Instead she yanked him down so that he could meet her eyes and then she kissed him, right on the lips and deeper than he expected for someone so low in energy.

"There. Now you can get sick too." She grumbled before burying her face again.

He didn't know why he was ever concerned that she wouldn't make it. She always fought, even when she had the lower hand. And most of the time she won. He couldn't see her face, but he imagined that she had at least half a smug smile. He dreaded the conversation to come after her cold came to pass. "I shouldn't have let you go."

She looked up, "you couldn't have stopped me."

"I should have at least tried to make you stay." He countered.

"Maybe I shouldn't have let you go either."

He had to admit that the confession had thrown him off. He could have told her that she couldn't have stopped him either, but she certainly could have either by force or by simply telling him that she wanted him to stay. She didn't need to know that though. "I won't do it again." He replied instead. He had to make sure he could keep that promise, because as soon as she was feeling better she would probably raise some real hell or at the very least coax him to get to the heart of his problems.


	50. Chapter 50

The weather was only growing worse. Sokka could tell that Azula was itching to leave, to take him and board the first boat that would take her home. He was glad to wait the winter out with her though, she kept the place warmer than it would have been with her unlimited supply of fire. None of them would have to risk dashing out in the storm to retrieve firewood from the village center. Currently she was pacing about the room, he couldn't imagine that she liked having to stay in one place for too long. It probably reminded her of being cooped up in the institution that she hated so much. Occasionally she would give a small cough or pause her pacing all together as a fit of them passed. Each time she would shoot him something of a pleading look as if he could draw the sickness out of her. Mostly Sokka found himself in better spirits now that she was there and safe. And in even better spirits since she seemed to have forgiven him. But when she went off to carry out her unfinished discussion with Iroh, he was left alone with his thoughts. He didn't know which weighed heaviest on his mind, that Suki was still gone and he was a killer or that he almost caused Azula the same fate and generally seemed to continuously cause her to struggle. Sure, she was a fighter, that's what he assured his father. But it was an excuse, a way for him to ease some of the guilt for causing her to have to fight. Even when she was in the room, he found himself dwelling over it, during lapses in the conversation. He clenched his fists and hit them against his forehead.

Eventually the restless princess took notice and seated herself next to him. "Why are you doing that."

He hadn't intended to sound snappy or offensive when he replied, "why did you do that" and indicated to her scarred arms. To his gratitude, she didn't seem bothered in the slightest. Instead she uttered a soft, "oh…" But she didn't seem certain of where to go from there. Not until a few quiet minutes later. He fast found that he had pushed the door wide open and the firebender had stepped inside.

As if she'd completely forgotten—no, disregarded, was more fitting—the way this conversation had ended the last time, she asked, "so, are you going to tell me more about what happened to Suki?"

"She's dead."

"Old news, Sokka." Azula yawned, pricking him with a jab of annoyance that he had to fight to suppress.

"It my fault. And she was pregnant." He added. Now that had gained the princess' attention.

"Your fault?" She asked.

He ignored her. "I killed her like I killed all of those men in the war and like I almost killed you."

"I did that all on my own, thank you very much." Azula muttered.

"You think that this is funny don't you?" He hadn't meant to but he had hollered at her. She was the only person in the room that didn't flinch. He could feel Ursa glaring at him so he lowered his voice. "It isn't funny. I need help. I need help so badly."

"I never said that it was funny…"

"I fought Bo-Rem and Khoza, I was going to fight Chan, I slapped Katara once—why do you think she took your side so quickly? I hit you too, I almost got you killed and you're making jokes about it." He gripped the armrest of his chair. "I can't control it, I'm so angry and I can't stop taking it out on other people. Which, by the way, makes me angrier. What kind of horrible person does that?"

.oOo.

Azula groaned to herself. Why had she even asked, she knew that she wasn't good at this. Not at all. She supposed that it was a sufficient amount of karma for having pressed Sokka so much on the matter. Now that he was throwing the answers at her she didn't know where to begin addressing them. Words and gestures of comfort never came easy to her, so chose someone else's. "You're not a monster if you feel bad for it. That's what you told me a while ago."

He paused his rambling sob story.

"Right?" She asked.

"Yes." He agreed.

"Then why are you having such a hard time listening to your own words?" Azula asked.

"I'm a killer Azula, you're not." He muttered. "It's funny isn't it? How I was the good guy but I dropped so many innocent men into the ocean and left them to drown. I got Suki killed. And you? You didn't cause much collateral damage. Have you ever killed anyone…who stayed dead?" Azula made out to reply but Sokka continued first. "You haven't killed anyone, yet you were the monster and I wasn't?"

"Sokka, everything I've ever done was deliberant. I may not have killed anyone but if you went to the Earth Kingdom right now, you would be hard pressed to find even one person who will say that I didn't ruin their life. At least you did it all by accident or with good intentions."

"They're still dead."

"They were soldiers, Sokka. They knew what they were in for." She paused. "We're a prideful nation Sokka, a good portion of them would have rather died trying to defeat you than live with the shame of being on the losing side."

"How do you know?" Sokka mumbled.

"They were my men, rather my father's. I've talked to many of them, I was the one who prepped some of them to go to battle. Fire Nation soldiers aren't like Water Tribe soldiers, they weren't heartbroken to leave home; you would be surprised at how many of them said that they would proudly die in battle. That it would bring them honor to know that they went down lifting their nation up." She paused. "I would have been perfectly content dying in such a way. Better than death by starvation…or, the lowly death of a ruby whore."

"You're not a—"

She lifted her hand, "we're comforting you right now, not me."

.oOo.

Sokka cringed, he had always known Azula to be rather intense. But this? This was a new level. Then again, he had never brought up her opinions on combat and war deaths.

"The point is, you haven't created any tortured souls with unfinished business. They might have been scared when the water started filling their lungs. But they knew they had placed their marks in history. They died with pride and are probably very content in the Spirit World knowing that their names are etched, in tribute, into the side of a volcano. The same volcano their remains are stored in." She paused. "Short of being buried with us royals, there's no greater glory." In case she hadn't driven the point home, she added, "you gave them dignity."

It was as horrifying to hear as it was strangely comforting. He hadn't thought about it that way. He had never considered the cultural differences in how willing they were to die at war. "But I still killed people."

Azula sighed, she might have rolled her eyes. "You were a soldier too, Sokka. You didn't have much of a choice. Any one of those men could have…would have killed you if you hadn't gotten to them first. And what then? The fleet would have continued and hundreds, maybe thousands, of people would have been dead because of you."

"Wh-what?"

"Well if you want to blame yourself for things you can't quite control; if you hadn't stopped the fleet then the Earth Kingdom would have been razed in fire. They would have been a pile of ashes because you weren't able to stop it from happening. Like it or not, Sokka, no matter what you did, people would have died because of you." She took a breath. "You were forced to make a choice. Less people were killed because of the one you made."

She looked at him, expecting a reply. But he had none for her. She had given him a lot to take in, a lot that he hadn't thought of before. Again, she rolled her eyes and gave a sniff that was either humored or the product of her cold. "You were so wrapped up in your self-pity that you didn't look at the whole picture. And here I thought that you were an artist."

When he found the words all he could utter, and in an incredulous whisper, "I don't understand. How can a person be so cold, yet so comforting at the same time?" If anyone could manage it would have been her.

.oOo.

Easily, she mused to herself. All one had to do was have absolutely no clue how do console a person, but have the will to try anyhow. "You're welcome." She replied. "Now what do you want to talk about?" She had to keep this going before she lost her touch.

"I don't know, Azula, I think that, that's enough for today." Sokka rubbed the back of his head.

She narrowed her eyes. Apparently he wasn't as eager as she. "Enough? You have lots of problems."

"No kidding." He grumbled. "I'm not like you, I don't want to tackle it all at once. Let me process everything you just told me and then we can talk about something new."

She sighed, "Fine." And then with a smirk she added, "that should give you plenty of time to pick a new subject to discuss."

"Yeah, sure Azula." He offered her a half-smile. It made her wonder if she really had helped at all or if she had just rambled pointlessly and he didn't have the heart to stop her. She folded her hands and set them in her lap.

As soon as she did, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. "Thank you, Azula."

She hugged the man back, giving him two sturdy pats on the back. She waited for him to pull away before saying, "I demand payment for my services."

.oOo.

Of course she did. He rolled his eyes. "Alright, here." He cupped her chin in his hand and offered her lips a gentle kiss. He missed the feeling so much. He was going to contract her cold for sure, but he craved the taste of her lips so terribly. So he let her pull him into the chair with her and touch her forehead to his as she stroked at his collarbone with her pointer.


	51. Chapter 51

It was wonderful to fall asleep with her in his arms, and somehow even more so to fall asleep laying on his side with her holding him. To have her hair draped over her own neck and cascading over his bicep while her arms came to press against his chest. He had to admit, he missed when her hair was cut short. Occasionally she would squeeze him tighter in her sleep, her grip would usually go lax once more after a minute or two. Her expression was soft and serene, he wasn't surprised, sleep was a brief break from her mild fever. He rested his hands atop hers and waited to join her in sleep. He fell into another dream. The unclear, almost indecipherable sort. Indecipherable at least to someone who didn't like piecing puzzles together.

_He was standing on familiar shores, but this time instead of a hot, hazy red, there was a cool blue tinge. Yet if he stared for too long, the scape would be blue and red at the same time. No matter the hue of the dream, snow fell alongside ash onto Fire Nation sand. Sokka stared out at a brewing ocean that stood between he and some distant land. It roared at him in liquid fury. He was already tense, the knew what was coming, he could already hear the voices as the waves dragged them closer. He had just enough time to assess the fallen war balloons. A bountiful host of icicles drooped and drizzled down their black spokes and spines and a fresh layer of white sprayed and dazzled the bits of tattered cloth. In the next instant the snow colored itself a warm and sparkling orange. He knew, in the haze of the dream, that if he touched it, it would still be cold. And yet everything around him was warm._

_The ocean tossed it's first body ashore and then a second. A third. He hadn't closed his eyes, nor looked away and the ocean hadn't hacked up anymore of them, but he found himself surrounded by a fallen army. The ocean froze over, so he couldn't toss any of the back to their underwater resting grounds. But then, were they really resting grounds at all? He couldn't imagine that they'd get any peace with the ocean flailing them about._

_They all stood, one by one, their stares wearing into him. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but the nightmare wouldn't allow such a mercy. He longed to get away from them, those desperate looking bodies._

_"It was your fault." Suki taunted. Her voice did anyhow. He looked skyward, but it lacked the airship he was expecting. It lacked a sun. He followed in the direction of her voice. "Your fault…your fault…your…"_

_He maneuvered himself onto the slick icy layer of the ocean. He looked down to gauge the thickness of the ice before each step. A mistake. A terrifying one. Beneath the ice, trapped within a frozen bubble was a teeny, venerable babe, frozen to the core. He could hear its cries._

_"Your fault."_

_He cupped his hands over his ears as the accusation swelled around him and from every direction. He turned to see the soldiers, but somehow they didn't look so dismal. He retreated to the safety of the shore away from the horrors of the water. Frozen and dead or not, the ocean was infinitely menacing._

_He sat upon the shores wondering what he should do next, somehow knew that he had nowhere to go. That the beach he stood on was one of the last places left and his only option was that other, inaccessible, land mass. A few feet ahead there came a crackling. Against his will he moved towards its source. Small fissures had appeared on the ice and they were growing rapidly into large spiderwebbing cracks. A hand reached through the ice, clawing at the surface with an air of desperation. "Suki!" He shouted. And then a second hand arose with just as much distress. That one wasn't Suki. He ran to Suki's aid, pulling and tugging as the other arm fell below the surface. His stomach sank, if he helped Suki, the other wouldn't make it. He peered into the water below to see Suki's hollow desperate face. The sea clung to it; shells and various kinds of kelp clung to her cheeks. A starfish burrowing on her neck. She was dead already. Reluctantly he let go of her skeletal hand and reached for the one that still boasted life and health._

_When he pulled her up he wasn't surprised to see that her skin was tinged with snowflakes and ice chips. Her lips were an alarming blue and her skin was pale, almost white. Over it sparkled a sheen of ice that he couldn't break through. He was even less surprised to find that it was Azula's face beneath that layer of ice. He held her close until she opened her eyes._

_Blue eyes._

_Why were they blue?_

_He could sense Suki staring at him as he cradled Azula. She was angry. Furious even. But she was trapped beneath the ice. A prisoner to the ocean like he was. The army stared at him too with the same blank, dead eyes. At last, Azula stood. She wandered towards the army with their outstretched arms. She tossed a look over her shoulder. He could see that one of her eyes had regained its true color. The other remained a deep blue. A familiar deep blue._

_Azula weaved between each and every soldier. Her men and women. She drew her kiseru from the folds of her robes and took a long drag, releasing a trail of smoke. "I thought we were done with this!" Sokka hollered._

_The princess rolled her eyes. "Relax." He watched her slip the kiseru back into its place. She turned to the soldier nearest to her and offered him a light kiss on the cheek. Some of the smoke spilled between her lips, spreading over the man and he turned to gold. She graced each of the combatants until much of the smoke in her mouth dissipated. By then, Sokka was surrounded by glinting gold._

_She came to him next. For a moment it disappeared, the vengeful ocean and the tormented souls within. Her lips were so cold and almost unpleasant. He feared that she would turn him to gold but instead the ice on her own skin fell away._

_There was only glory. Only pride._

_And yet he still feared the babe and its mother that watched on in the background._

He woke up to find that the princess was still holding him. He could feel her quivering against him and he realized that, at some time during the night, he had yanked the blankets off of her. It would seem to him that she had an incredibly low tolerance for the cold. He bundled her up again, deciding that he would have to get her home as soon as possible. He wondered if she would like it better if he started cooking breakfast or if he stayed with her until she woke up. Eventually he tucked himself back in, this time facing her. He rubbed her back absently as he tried to make sense of his dream. He hated to think of Suki as some dark presence, but was she not a shadow lingering on his mind? Aside from the sleep realm imagery, he couldn't see Suki wanting the worst for him. He liked to think that she would want him to find love again. And maybe that was what the dream was for. Perhaps it was to make him draw that conclusion. He took Azula's hand, he wondered what she dreamed of. Based on her expression, he couldn't imagine that it was anything unpleasant.

Within an hour or two, Sokka came to conclude that he should have started on breakfast. She hadn't slept this late since she went through withdrawals. He hadn't considered that her fever was taking this much out of her. He touched his hand to her forehead, she was burning up even beyond that of a firebender.

Carefully, he pulled himself away from her. Gran would know what to do, she always had the best remedies and they didn't taste like the diseases they were meant to fight either. He found Gran sitting by the fire with Paku and Ursa. Iroh, Bato, and his father were in the opposite corner part-taking in what Sokka thought must be manly chatter. Turns out they were talking about pai-sho and the best ways to serve fish. "Hey Gran." Sokka greeted.

The old woman looked up. "You seem like you're in better spirits."

"I'd be in better spirits if you whipped up one of your cold medicines." Quickly he added, "I'll get breakfast together for you, if you do."

"Is she getting any better?" Ursa asked.

"She's about the same as before." Sokka half-frowned. "She's still sleeping." Despite his promise to Gran, he led Ursa to his room. The old woman shook her head, she hadn't expected him to follow through this time, but she had Pakku to help her mix and blend the herbs so she supposed that she would let it slide this time.

Sokka watched Ursa set her hand on Azula's shoulder. The princess wasn't awake to shrug her off this time. In waking, she probably wouldn't let her mother get so tentative without at least pretending to hate it, so Sokka let the woman have her moment with her daughter.

He waited until she left to shake the princess awake; he couldn't take it anymore, he had to tell someone of his dream. 


	52. Chapter 52

Azula didn't exactly appreciate the abrupt awakening she was given. Her dream was quite pleasant, and she hadn't been ready to leave it just yet. Her awakening had been so sudden she only managed to cling onto one detail of it; that she was back in the generous warmth of her own kingdom. For that she was even less thrilled to sit up and see snow gathering unabashed on the window sill. She brushed a sweep of hair away from the front of her face and fixed Sokka with a dissatisfied glare.

"Good afternoon, Azula!" Sokka greeted.

She was almost inclined to mutter that it wasn't afternoon enough for her and that she'd like at least another hour of rest. There wasn't much to do anyhow being as they were snowed in. The house itself wasn't big enough for her to do any substantial training either. "What do you want?"

"I had this dream last night."

"I also had a dream last night." Azula noted, "in fact I was in the middle of having it when you woke me up."

"Sorry." He muttered, flushing slightly. "Was it a good dream?"

"I think so." Azula replied. "Yours?"

"I don't know, parts of it, I think." He answered.

"How is it that you don't know if you enjoyed the dream or not?" She flopped back down to the furs. "You either liked it or you didn't."

"It's not that simple…"

Azula sighed. "What is with you and Zu-Zu and making everything more complicated than it needs to be? Somethings are very simple."

"Like me?"

At this she laughed. "You? Absolutely not. It's strange, people always seemed to think of you that way." She sat up again. "You never were. Your needs might have been simpler, but you? Not at all." The look on his face told her that he didn't know how to take such new information. It was as if he'd never considered that he was deeper than a single drop of water. It made little sense to her, that he wouldn't notice his own complexities.

"Well right now, I do have a simple need." He said. "I want you to listen to my dream or nightmare. Whatever it was."

"We could be talking about your collection of issues."

"I need to talk about this."

Azula sighed. "Alright, fine." She found that a dream could be very telling of a person's state of mind anyhow. "Tell me about your dream." For as much as he begged to tell it, he was hesitant to begin. Eventually he managed to relay the details of the dream.

"What does it mean?" He finished.

"Do I look like the kind of person who likes to interpret dreams?" She asked. "I can send a messenger hawk to TyLee, it won't make it of course," she gestured to the blustering blizzard, "but you get my point."

"Please just help me with this, I need to know what it means."

"What makes you think it means anything at all?" Regardless, she had her own interpretations at the ready. But it was his dream, so he had to be the one to discern the meanings of it.

"Because I've been having it over and over again. But it was different this time."

"Why?"

"Don't you mean how?" Sokka asked.

"No, I mean why. After having the same nightmare over and over again, why would it change now. What's different?" She elaborated.

.oOo.

Sokka sat quietly. Azula was making him think and he didn't like it in the slightest. He didn't know why he expected her to give him the answers, of course she would make him find them mostly on his own. "I guess…" he flexed his jaw, "the thing that is different…" he trailed off again. "Is that you talked to me. That you're here now. Before you got here they were a lot worse."

"And that tells you what?"

"That my nightmares are also scared of you?" He replied immediately.

"Now let's get an answer that isn't completely idiotic." Azula spoke dryly.

"I guess, that I was worried about you." He answered. "But what about the golden soldiers and Suki and…"

Azula cut him off. "One thing at a time." Her voice hitched, and he knew that she was beginning to lose her voice. But she continued no less. "The soldiers, were they angry at you?"

"Not this time." He answered.

"Why wouldn't they be this time around?"

"Azula, I don't know. That's why I asked you." He was tired of this guessing game, he just wanted answers.

Ever an expert at reading people Azula relented. "You were projecting. They were vengeful and angry at you because you were angry at you. Maybe, deep down you finally realized that their deaths aren't your fault." She made a point of adding, "if only you were half as smart as your unconscious mind."

"Thanks, Azula." He grumbled. He didn't know if he believed her; whether his intentions were noble or not, he still felt a pang of guilt for killing the soldiers. Oddly he found relief in that, maybe she was right, if he felt bad for it then he couldn't possibly be a killer.

"In other words, it worked. I am good at being comforting." She declared. If he were being honest he would say that, 'good' was a bit of a stretch. She was good at getting to the root of the problem but she had quite a ways to go in how she addressed those problems after recognizing them. "Which is why you're going to tell me what else is bothering you."

"I don't know…"

The narrow-eyed look she graced him with told him that his decline was dissatisfactory.

"Am I not good at this?" She asked. He didn't know how to answer that without sounding completely rude. As things usually went with her, his silence was equally as vexing to her. "Right, I didn't think that I was, not really anyways." Worse still, was that the statement wasn't spoken in the tone she used to guilt trip him. It was as genuine as any of her other comments.

"I just don't know if I'm ready."

.oOo.

Azula rolled her eyes, "you're never ready." It was dreadfully unfair that he was able to pry the Ruby Tears from her hand and force her to fix herself when she wasn't ready to do so, yet she had no means to force anything out of him. Save for an old fashion torture session. "And that's why you're not going to get anywhere." Instead she would have to worm her way into his head again and hope for the best. He rubbed his face. He might have been considering taking her bait. So she pushed further. "I guess if you want to stay angry and bothered all the time, I'll leave you to it. But don't expect me to stick around if you strike me again."

"I'm not going to." He sputtered. "I'll try not to…" his face fell. It was a promise he wasn't sure he could keep.

Her own vow wasn't quite the truth either. There was some truth in it, the potential that it could become the full truth. A threat that was only half empty. She would probably stick around and weather it out as he did for her, but she wouldn't play nice if he got feisty again. She studied his expression for another period of time. "You're afraid of yourself."

Sokka let out a long breath. "Stop doing that."

"What?"

"Reading me like that."

"If I don't, no one will. You sure do a bad job of it." Azula shrugged. She hoped that he would cave soon, her voice was beginning to grow scratchy. She snatched the nearest blanket and draped it around herself.

"I can read myself just fine!" Sokka argued. "I know why I'm angry. I'm angry because I can't save the people I love. I'm useless. My only talent is getting people hurt."

"You saved me." She coughed. "Though I almost wish you hadn't right now." She knew that she was a bit of a mess, red-nosed from so much rubbing, hair disheveled, and tired eyes. She was probably growing pale again too. She may not have died, but the feeling was ever present.

"Only because I followed a magical elk that oddly resembled the first person I loved and let die!" Sokka threw his hands up. "She did most of the work."

"I imagine that you—and my mother—were the only people keen on braving the storm to find me. Yes? You didn't have to go out there, but you did. That's not even what I was talking about anyhow." She replied.

"Then what were you talking about?"

"You saved me from myself, Sokka. If it weren't for you the storm wouldn't have even got the chance to try." She gripped the blanket tighter. It wasn't a subject she liked dwelling on for too long. Already, she had graced herself with an image of she in Minho's place. And if she dwelled on it longer, her mind would conjure up one where the scars on her arms and legs were split open. Sokka didn't fill the silence quick enough for her liking. "In some way or another I would have been dead already."

"I…saved you? You really think that?" He whispered.

"If you find that to incredible to believe, perhaps you can accept that you largely influenced me to save myself." She shivered, she needed to lay down. "Even if you're useless to yourself, you're not useless to me." She bunched herself up within the abundant supply of furs.

"Gran's gonna bring you some medication soon." She didn't need to look up to know, she could hear the sheer joy in his voice.

.oOo.

Sokka hadn't beamed so wide in ages. Even after his successful hunt, he hadn't been thrilled to such a high altitude. Coming from her, he felt extra flattered; he couldn't imagine that she found many people useful. He watched her shift under the blanket, clearly discomforted.

"Good, I could use it." She replied.

He wasn't useless. His grin stretched wider.

Without opening her eyes she noted. "You have talent too. I wouldn't have let you paint me if it looked hideous. Somehow you made me look beautiful at my worst, that has to count for something right?"

After being so deprived of compliments for so long, he had to ask, "what about my swordsmanship."

"Now you're pushing it." Her smirk faded into something more serious. "Who made you think that you were useless anyhow?"

"No one really. Not on purpose anyways. It's just that…" he paused. "You wouldn't understand. It's just that, being surrounded by benders like Toph and Katara, and Aang of course—they're jus so powerful. My boomerang can't really match that."

"But your wit can." Azula replied. "Not many people are on par with myself. Honestly, I always thought you were the biggest threat. You can have all the raw power you want, all it takes is someone smarter, with better plans to topple it all. My father could throw all of the fire that he wanted to, it wouldn't have helped him at all against someone who could think faster than he could bend."

He blinked. "I was the biggest threat."

"Unless Aang went into the Avatar State." Azula shrugged. "You had the biggest chance of unraveling my plans because you at least had an idea on how to navigate them." She cracked an eye open. "You're not going to cry are you?"

He wasn't one for happy tears, but she had just said all of the things that he needed to hear. None of them were said for the sake of appeasing him either. The firebender knew her way around people, could read them startlingly well. It was just another skill that left her so feared, and yet that 'evil' talent was breathing a sort of life into him. "I'll try not to."

Azula coughed into her hand and groaned in either pain or annoyance before curling herself into an even tighter ball. It was nothing short of a miracle that she had the energy to deal with his problems at all. Maybe she wasn't the most emotionally invested person and maybe her tone was flat and matter-of-fact. But the attempt alone, that she was talking to him at all, was care enough for him. And that care was its own comfort even if it wasn't accented by sweet words and loving gestures.


	53. Chapter 53

Sokka had felt the air warm some and he had dreaded the thawing of the snow. He had known that as soon as they could set foot into the outside world, that the princess would have him where he stood presently. He watched the waves fold and dip under the boat. He had waved a goodbye to Gran, Pakku, and Bato. And to Hakoda he departed with a promise to give Katara his regards and the stuffed seal-lion she had left behind the last time. Azula was eager to give her a hard time over still sleeping with a plush at all. Though Sokka was faintly certain that she still had one of her own somewhere. The woman in question strolled leisurely from one end of the deck to the next. Fully recovered from her brush with a frigid death, she was put together extra well. Not a hair out of place, not a kink in her clothing. Where he was queasy with anxiousness, her spirits seemed very high. No doubt, she was elated to be on her way home. He was hoping to get a word with her, to seek comfort and advice, but Iroh got to her first. Sokka wasn't surprised in the slightest—Iroh had a much better chance to make headway with her when she was in a brighter mood to begin with. He didn't have the heart to ruin that chance so he let Iroh confront Azula and wallowed alone in his nervous anticipation. Would they be mad at him? Or were they just worried. Would they be mad at him because they were worried. Sokka tapped his fingers nervously upon the railing as he glared at the ocean. He took a deep breath and tried to let his hatred of it go. For as much as it stole from him it had taken him to his father, to the place where he was able to get his peace of mind. The distance it put between he and Azula was closed. But he supposed it was better to hate the ocean than himself. He wished that he could detest neither.

.oOo.

"I'm not him." It was firm and left no room for argument.

"No, but you almost became him." Iroh tried anyhow. "You were so close to becoming your father that it was hard to tell the difference."

"You never tried." Azula countered.

Iroh rubbed his beard. "You are right, I should have. But you have to understand just how hard it was to do that when your father made it difficult to reach you. I am his brother, I have heard his manner of speech. His dark inclinations. His mannerisms, his tone, his demeanor, you reflected them all almost exactly. You tormented my nephew—your brother, just like Ozai. You spoke of war and conquer."

"I was raised to think of how to put my kingdom first."

"He may have put the words there, but they came from your lips. All of them."

"You could have influenced me just as easily if you chose the right words." Azula muttered. "But you were too busy showing Zu-Zu the right way."

Iroh's hard expression gave way. "The truth is, I didn't know how to reach you. Zuko had a dream once, in which you were a blue dragon. Dragons are a force to reckon with, niece. It is wise to keep one's distance. But a dragon befriended is a companion worth keeping; they are powerful and protective as they are frightening and dangerous. Most people are to wary to try to acquire such a companion. Sokka is braver than most people. He is braver than I was."

She still didn't like his lengthy speeches and metaphors. Frankly she just wanted him to get to the point with her having to sort through the fluff. "Are you saying that you are a coward?"

She had pinched a nerve for his face hardened again for a moment. "Concerning you, I might have been. To a point I believe that I had the right to be so." She had to appreciate his honestly. "But after hearing Zuko's recount of your Agni Kai I probably shouldn't have feared you. I shouldn't have pressed you to change without offering any help."

Azula bit her lip thinking it over. She wanted to stay mad, but that was what she wanted to hear, or at the very least it was the basic structure of what she wanted to hear. A small confirmation that she wasn't completely at fault for slipping into her own destruction did her well. "Is that an apology?"

"It will be an apology if I get one too." He poured himself a cup of tea. He brought it near his lips before changing his mind and offering it to her.

She stared at the teacup for a moment before accepting it.

.oOo.

Sokka fanned himself. He was already sweating with anxiety, the unapologetic Fire Nation heat did little to aid the situation. Azula told him that she would talk to the gang first which only settled his nerves to a minuscule degree. He constantly made the mistake of preparing no dialog for himself so this time he did. He was going to tell Katara that he ran away because he had hurt Azula and he was afraid of hurting someone else. He was going to tell her that he knew that running away had been selfish, but that it came from a selfless place. He was going to confess that to all of them. At worst, if they gave him a hard time, he had Azula for support and company until he could prove his case better.

Zuko and Azula were the first to join him in the room. He caught the tail end of their conversation; something akin to, "I was stuck in a snow storm too, Aang had to save my sorry ass." To which Azula replied, "I suppose almost dying in the Water Tribe is a family activity." And from Zuko, "let's try to find other ways to bond."

Katara, Aang, and Toph filled the rest of the seats at the table. "I was the one who found your name in the ship logs!" Toph declared.

"Congrats, Toph, I appri—wait, no you didn't!" Sokka grumbled.

"I did so." Toph replied, "ask Momo, he was there."

From what he gathered there were no hard feelings from her, though she would probably be making jokes about his disappearance for years to come, which was punishment enough.

Sokka addressed Katara wearily, "dad says hi, and Gran misses you."

Katara fixed him with a hard stare. "He couldn't have seen me if you would have, oh you know, invited me along. You couldn't even say goodbye to me in person?"

"I didn't know how to say it." He muttered "and even if I did I was afraid of hurting you. I thought that you would be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you, I'm afraid of some of the things you do." Katara replied. "I was more afraid that I was going to lose you…" She paused. "I just can't believe you would run away like that." He caught the slightest tremble in her voice.

"It's not all his fault, remember Katara. We were ignoring him? Would we have listened to him if he tried to tell us?" Aang asked.

"Of course I would have!" Katara cried. She turned back to Sokka. "That was stupid and reckless and irresponsible! And Azula told me that she almost died?"

"Twice." Azula corrected.

Sokka nudged her under the table and muttered, "you're not helping me."

"Is this how you're going to handle all of your problems? By running away?" Katara shot.

He gripped Azula's hand as the guilt welled up again. She didn't squeeze back, but she didn't tug out of his grasp. "I just didn't want to make things worse."

"Well I'm glad that worked out for you." Katara stood.

"Don't leave." He frowned. "Katara. Come on, we're trying to talk about this."

"All you're doing is making excuses." Katara shouted. "I didn't come down here to hear excuses."

"No I'm not, it's true I left because I was afraid of…"

"You didn't think about how any of us would feel at all."

"That's all I thought about." Sokka lowered his gaze. "I thought that I was doing what was best."

Aang smiled, "I know. I think Katara does too. It's just easier for her to be frustrated than sad."

Katara knit her brows. He was right it was easier, so much easier. Which is why she replied, "maybe you did what was best for you."

"That's what I thought too." Azula put in. "He has bigger problems than you know."

"If he was having problems he should have told us." Zuko grumbled.

"Yes, because that's what you always do." Azula examined her nails. Based on her expression Sokka concluded that's she'd be seeking out another trip to the royal spa shortly.

"At least I don't throw punches when I have pent up problems!"

Azula quirked an eyebrow.

"Whatever." Zuko folded his arms over his chest.

Katara bit the inside of her lip and Sokka hoped that it meant she was trying to see things his way.

"I hate you, Sokka." She snapped, "I hate you for leaving me here wondering if you were going to be okay."

"I'm sorry." He replied softly. "I just needed a break."

"Next time you take a break, maybe leave a better note." Toph suggested. "Sugar Queen likes her sappy notes."

He was a grown man, it was time to start acting like one. "I won't need to write another, I don't plan on leaving again."


	54. Chapter 54

Azula's hands were smeared with blacks and blues and hints of brown. "This is ridiculous and I hate it." She grumbled.

"You only hate it because it's not coming naturally to you." Sokka declared. "Here." He took hold of her wrist and guided her through a single arcing brush stroke and then into a small spiral. A detail that would serve to portray the accent of his armor.

"It doesn't even look like you at all." She complained. "It's worse than your Appa painting."

"How could you bring that up? You know I can't paint animals!" He feigned offense.

"And I can't paint your face apparently." She muttered.

"Maybe you can paint animals and not people?" He suggested.

Azula shrugged. "Who cares, I'm tired of painting. It's tedious and messy. I can't even see my skin under all of this." She held up her hands, displaying what had to be a healthy layer of dried paint. It was certainly thick enough to have visible cracks and in places where the paint flaked off, she could see that the layer coating her hands had some thickness to it.

"And firebending isn't tedious?" He asked.

"Oh, it very much is." Azula muttered. But she had talent there. "It isn't dirty though. I don't have to spend precious time trying to was firebending off of my hands."

Sokka took her hand. "It would be a shame if you had to wash it off of your face too."

She should have seen his foolish antics coming. Wriggling his eyebrows as he did when he was about to do something stupid, he brought her hand to her cheek and rubbed. He put her hand back down, leaving her to wonder just how much damage was inflicted. She could feel a considerable amount of paint gracing her cheek. "Why would you do that."

"Sorry, I thought you were a canvas, because you're a real masterpiece." He winked.

"Wow, that was truly awful." She snatched up the palette next to her and smashed it into his face—less for the paint on her cheek and more for the part of her soul that cringed at his pickup line. She may not have been able to paint him, but she could paint on him. "I thought you were done with life ruining jokes?" She let him trail behind her as she made her way to her room to fetch a change of clothes.

"I don't know, I thought that one was rejuvenating." He shrugged.

She slipped into her closet, leaving Sokka to inspect her room. He missed the perfume of incense that hung heavily in the room, even when she hadn't been there to burn any. He missed the spacious bed she so often let him share with her. On her dresser he found a small folded note. He unfolded and red it. "Who is Petro? And why is Zuko watching her?"

"Long story." Azula paused. "Stop reading notes left on my dresser." Even so she made a quiet reminder to herself to go fetch the elephant-mouse from her brother. In the mean time she took her armful of clothes and made her way to the hot springs. She had missed them very much but between days of getting Sokka readjusted and trying to find Wire again, she hadn't the chance to truly enjoy it. She made it halfway down the hallway when Sokka took her by the arm.

"Hey, wait."

Azula turned to face him, "Hm?"

"You got something on your cheek."

"Yes, that's why you're going to the springs. Remember."

"No, no, something else."

"What else do I have on my cheek?"

"My lips." He replied before taking her into his arms and kissing her cheek. He looked so smug that she hadn't the heart to tell him that, that joke was almost worst than the first. Instead she let him give her a second one.

Azula rolled her eyes. "Now your lips are covered in paint. "I suppose you'll have to join me in the springs, won't you?"

.oOo.

Sokka watched the steam coil around her body as she scrubbed at her cheek. Apparently, the blue paint was harder to get out than either of them had anticipated. She grumbled an assortment of things ranging from an exasperated, "you're an ass, Sokka" to a mildly distressed, "I can't get it off."

"Let me try." He offered, taking the bar of soap from her hand. She seated herself on one of the rocks that left her face level with his out stretched hand. Such a rock had the water only reaching the bottom of her calfs. She propped herself up with one arm and combed her fingers though her hair with the other. Sokka dabbed at the splotches on her face while she absently kicked at the water. Eventually the blues and blacks began to fade and he could see her skin's natural color peeking through. The hand that wasn't trying to scrub the paint away, rested on her shoulder. Mostly out of the water he could clearly see for the first time, each and every scar that decorated her body. He had known that she had clawed at her wrists and legs in times of distress, but before then he hadn't noticed the marks on her sides and middle. He was surprised to see her displaying them so openly, granted he was the only one around.

He must have stopped rubbing her cheek to stare, for the princess noted, "I didn't make all of those." She took the soap back and finished the task he'd stolen from her. "Some of them happened during the war." She indicated to one or two on her side. "Training with father wasn't an easy feat."

"That one?" He asked following with his finger, a particularly long slash that started diagonally from her side, level with her ribcage, and almost reached her belly button.

"That one was me." She shrugged.

"Why?" He asked, withdrawing his hand.

"I don't remember. It doesn't really matter anymore." She slid herself back into the water and closer to himself. She draped her arms over his shoulders and around his neck. "Whatever I was thinking of when I did it, I don't think about it anymore."

Part of him wondered if she was lying, at least half so. He couldn't see her as the type to completely forget about something like that. Though she was probably true in her word, that it no longer bothered her. He wished that he could let his scars be no more than that.

"I'd like to not think of the things that hurt…"

"You're going to have to think of them a little more if you're ever going to stop." She replied, pulling away to wash her hair.

"Do you think Suki is mad at me?" He asked. "Do you think she's in the spirit world hating me?"

"For what? Moving on?" Azula asked.

"For killing her with my awful sense of humor."

"Sokka, your jokes are truly atrocious, but that's not what got her killed." Azula stopped fussing with her hair. "It was your anger, not your humor. From the sound of it, the two of you were already growing distant. Arguing and bickering over small things. That's what Mai and Zuko did before parting ways." She paused. "I would imagine that you were already thinking about things you've done in the war before you lost Suki."

"Yeah." He confirmed. "I thought about it a lot."

"Which didn't put you in a good mood. She probably had her own demons to cope with. Did you ever talk about such matters?"

"Not with each other, no. With Aang, yeah."

"And that's what went wrong. It just so happened that you made a tactless joke at an ill-placed time." Azula declared. She dipped her head back and rinsed her hair.

She was probably right, but it still haunted him to think that Suki let things get that bad. To ponder the possibility that Suki would be happy that he had replaced her with Azula, of all people. "I guess." He replied.

She cocked her head. He was being a buzzkill and he knew it. But the firebender closed in on him, the water parting around her as the space between them grew less and less. With her body pressed against his, he could feel his ambivalence falling away. If Yue wasn't mad at him for finding love in Suki, then Suki would probably be fine with him finding love with Azula. He held her tightly to himself, feeling her bare chest against his own and her wet locks clinging to his shoulder. For much longer than he would have like, he thought that he would never have another moment with her in the springs. Thought he would never get to hold her again. He let his lips fall on her neck. They were there only briefly before she pushed him against the side of the spring. Before he could ask what that was about, she had her lips on his. She held the kiss until he could scarcely breathe. If the springs hadn't brought heat and color to his face, she sure had.

.oOo.

It was something she'd been meaning to do since almost freezing to death. The only thing that had kept her from it was that miserable fever. It would have been a good way to warm up, and the furs would have been a nice touch. But the springs were a fine choice as well. Her lips met his again, shorter but much deeper as she held him against the wall. She felt his hands trace her frame. Her own traveled down to his lower back. Drawing away from his mouth, she slowly trailed her tongue up his neck before offering his ear a small nibble.

"You are something else." She heard him say.

"Yeah?" She asked, before mirroring that gesture on his neck, this time sinking her teeth a little deeper.

He gave a small whimper of pleasure, it was exactly what she was looking for. She set her sights on his chest, that tantalizingly chiseled chest. She traced the contour of them with her pointer as if trying to find exactly the right spot to leave her mark.

"Is it a good something else?" She asked before making her claim.

"It usually is, with you." He replied as he ran he raked his hands through her tresses, something a bit harder to do with it being so wet. Still, the stimulation was desirable. His grip tightened on her hair—nearly pulling it—as she pushed closer than she ever had.

She ran her hands up and down his arms feeling the muscles beneath flex and shift as he rocked some. The spring churned around them, perhaps heightening the experience.

.oOo.

She allowed him to lift her out of the water. The ground wasn't the most comfortable, but Azula didn't seem to mind so he took his turn on top. She had changed very much, more than he had, he concluded with himself. She wasn't so fragile and scarcely bore any signs of her former abuses. Her firebending training was going very well, he could see that much. Even during what she claimed as her prime, she had never been so built. Yes, he decided, her training was going well. And it bled through in her current movements, each and every motion was executed boldly and with the confidence he knew her for.

She had told him that she was a woman now, she said as much with a degree of pride that outweighed any reluctance in accepting it. Holding her by the hips, he could feel as much. He hoped that he had matured as well and that she wasn't disappointed with what he had to offer.

Her hands, coming to grab his cheeks and pull his face towards her own, was completely reassuring. She curled around him like the steam from the springs and, in one fluid motion that he didn't even realize she could pull off, rolled them over so she that she was on top.

He should have known that she wouldn't accept anything other than that. He glided his hands back up and over her curves.

.oOo.

Azula's grip tightened on his back and her nails cut into his skin as he pulled at her hair. She wasn't much for whimpers and moans, but he knew what she liked. Sokka was good at what he did, very good indeed. But she had to be better.

She hadn't expected him to disappoint. But somehow she still assumed she'd be tangled up with the boy who had her pinned to the wall in a secret bunker many years back. That boy was long gone, sculpted—for better or for worse—by the war. Yue and Suki had gotten the boy, which was fine by her, because she got the man. And probably more of him than they ever did. Had he not pleasured her so, she might have had the decency to fear them dropping by from the spirit world to tear her a new one for that thought. They would have to forgive her though, because—atypically of her—she was focused on only one thing. One pleasantly dizzying, passionate thing.

Something that felt real.

Something that didn't feel forced nor awkward.

.oOo.

They lie still, under a thin curtain of mist, for some time listening to the soft lapping of the springs. Azula was still breathing somewhat heavily and he was still pulsing all over with faint tingles of pleasure. Her rolled onto his side and kissed her again. He had to admit he was worn out. Not for the first time, he found himself absently tracing her scars. Though the ones on her belly were more foreign to him. It was a wonder anyone could come out of something so abysmal. Yet she lie there looking, for all the world, as if she had everything she ever wanted and then some. She closed her eyes, probably taking in the sensation of his touch on her middle. She looked peaceful. He only hoped that he could get to such a place. The scars on her belly had more texture, seeming more raised, and for that he could only assume that her core had taken the most abuse. The kind that couldn't deliver to her arms without risk. They weren't as faint either. Even still, he could imagine her any other way. Even if she didn't think so she was perfect to him. Still stroking at one of those scars he mumbled, "you know you're beautiful, right?"

With a soft hum she replied, "yes, I know."

He chuckled. It was good to hear. Perhaps one day he would find that kind of solace. That kind of freedom and acceptance of his own scars. And perhaps he already did in one way or another; Suki had been wonderful in many ways. She was strong, and kind, a pretty. But Azula…

Azula was…she was her.

Fierce, and determined and feisty. But somehow compassionate and oddly comforting. Suki was a woman, but Azula was a dragon.

He held her close, determined not to let go.


	55. Chapter 55

Perhaps the floor of the springs wasn't the best place to have at it, Azula thought to herself as she inspected her back in the mirror. The rough stones of the place had graced her back with minor scrapes and bruises. Her condition was only slightly better than Sokka's, she had been rough with the man and she almost felt bad for it even though he was adamant about it being part of the game. It had been nice to wake up to him even though he, at some point in the night, had ended up elbowing her in the stomach. For that she ended up sleeping with her back to him, but by morning he had his arms around her again, his beard tickling her neck. She dressed herself, ignoring—to the best of her ability the way the fabric scratched at her mildly beaten back. Today she had every intention of collecting Yoona and Khoza and tracking down Wire once and for all. Zuko was growing tired of chasing Petro around and Ursa had a rather irrational fear of the elephant-mouse. Azula spared herself one last look in the mirror and adjusted anything that less than pleased her. Sokka was awake and waiting for her when she reappeared. She pulled him to his feet and practically dragged him towards the stairs. The pair never seemed to make quick progress with hallway ventures as Sokka liked to hold her against the wall for kisses and quick touches. He could be very needy at times, she concluded. But mostly she didn't mind the attention, so long as she wasn't in a hurry. That morning was one such day, since leaving for the Water Tribe she had the district feeling that she'd thrown Chan to the dirt. In his own way he had supported her and given her a broken little sanctuary. She had repaid him by leading him on and it left a sort of sourness in her mouth, a horribly dirty feeling. One she hoped to wash away by reuniting him with Wire. She also didn't mind the prospect of dropping by Ember Island again, especially in light of spending so much time in the cold of the Water Tribe.

Azula figured that it would be rather easy to find Wire, she would host a party for the high-ranking nobles, the kind of party the boy's mother couldn't miss. If the palace staff did their part she could have the palace ballroom re-arranged and ready and an abundance of food and beverage on the tables by nightfall. Rather than going through the trouble of acquiring a reputable musician she had made a work around. Within the invites she had offered them a chance to show off their own skills, a talent show in some regard. If all went as planned and her last-minute invitation gained an audience, it would surly save her the time and effort of traipsing aimlessly around the capital in search of the boy. She had requested that the entire families come so that Wire wouldn't be left behind. She would seek out his family and go from there. She had to admit that she was fishing for an excuse to throw or attend an exquisite party. It had been so long and she had missed out on so many and chasing Sokka to the south, she had missed out on another. She pined for the extravagant feelings that such formal events evoked in her. The potent reminder that she was still a royal despite living so modestly for a good chunk of time.

She supposed that it did her well though, to do so.

"Help me decide how to fix my hair and makeup?" She requested of Sokka.

"Only if you help me get through this whole party thing." He replied.

Azula sighed. "You'll be fine.. I'm sure you've attended plenty of these things before"

"Yeah, and they were all awkward. Ask Aang, he'll tell you."

"Sir Momo of the Momo dynasty." Toph snorted as she walked passed.

"What does that even—"

"Don't ask!" Sokka replied, leaving Azula completely certain that it was something that would make her cringe for hours. No matter, she would ensure that Sokka didn't humiliate himself and by extension her. It was going to be well to address the public for the first time as Fire Lord. She wouldn't be surprised if they had forgotten, she nearly had between going away and letting Sokka continue to call her 'princess'.

.oOo.

Sokka wasn't as thrilled at the prospect of attending some posh palace party as Azula and Khoza were. No, he and Yoona were jittery and constantly sparing each other anxious glances. Even if he got to be arm in arm with an elegantly dressed Azula the idea didn't appeal. The nature of their relationship had never been hidden but it hadn't been exactly public either. He wasn't sure if he was ready to make it so. Yet he was there walking beside her as she greeted her guests. He tried to settle the whirling feeling in his stomach by thinking of something else. Azula herself was an ample distraction in her form-fitting finery. The gown was a very stark contrast to the flowing, loose robes most of the others wore. A far cry from tradition. But at the same time it reeked of Fire Nation tailory. Golden and bright red embroidered dragons coiled and curled up silk of a deeper red. The gold dragon circled Azula's hips until it's head reached her right breast. And the red spanned from the opposite corner to her left breast. It was a sleeveless kimono of sorts that came to reveal her shoulder blades. Her hair was done up in a formal bun with a headdress so elaborate, Sokka had trouble distinguishing what kind of gems dangled from each golden hair chopstick.

Her lips had been painted such a vivid shade of red he thought that they outshined the rubies adorning her head. He looked at her to the point of catching little details he hadn't noticed before. A freckle on her neck and a very faint birth mark on her left shoulder blade that one would miss unless they were staring.

Whenever she shook the hand of a guest he could see the flash of gold as light fell upon an arrangement of rings and bracelets. All in all, the Fire Lord had an obvious air of opulence about her.

By comparison he felt like a potato. A common, everyday potato in expensive robes. A few more people trickled in and he followed Azula on shaking legs to the front of the room where she stood and welcomed everyone to the party. The occasion, to welcome herself home. Sokka admitted to getting a kick out of that one, she would throw herself a welcome back party. He gathered that it was a good enough excuse; her other choices included a party to 'announce our marriage'—as nice as marrying the princess sounded to him, he wasn't quite ready for that—and a 'just had great sex' party. He was flabbergasted at that suggestion despite knowing very well that she had only thrown it out there to make her real theme sound more appealing.

Most of Azula's attention was fixated on spotting this Wire kid and so he was left to his own nervousness with only Yoona for comfort. Her speech was getting better so he didn't have to strain his ears to decipher her words. Mostly the girl talked his ear off about how excited she was to visit Ember Island for the first time and how she had always wanted to wear a bikini and see a volcano. He had to politely and gently remind her that she lived in a dormant one. She seemed genuinely confused at the prospect of a volcano with no lava until Khoza stepped in and said, "the volcano is sleeping Yoona, that's why it has no lava."

After that discussion ended Yoon started in about how he was a beautiful man with beautiful eyes that reminded her of the ocean. She fidgeted with the tassels dangling from the collar of his robe until Khoza elbowed her and told her that she was making him uncomfortable. And to Sokka he added, "if she's bothering you, just tell her, Bo-Rem used to tell her to piss off all the time."

Sokka had no intention of following through on that advice. At last Azula reappeared. "I found him, working around his mother is going to be a little harder, unless of course you'll allow me the pleasure of using less diplomatic strategies."

"Please be nice." Sokka winced.

Azula rolled her eyes. "Lighten up, Sokka, I'm not going to kill the woman. Though she's testing me."

"What is she doing?" Khoza asked, treating himself to another glass of higher end cactus juice.

"She's more dramatic than Zu-Zu. She could give my mother some competition, and my mother was in theater." Azula's eyes lit up. After spending so much time in her company, he knew exactly what that meant. "I'll get mother. I don't know why I didn't think of that beforehand."

.oOo.

Azula retreated to find her mother. If anyone could coax Wire's mother into letting him leave with her for an extended trip to Ember Island, it would be her own. Frankly, Azula was tired of bickering with the woman and she was quite eager to spend at least some of the party with Sokka. She had promised that she would ease his mind, Yoona was kind company, but she doubted that the girl could keep Sokka pacified for much longer. It took some effort to pry Ursa away from Zuko—who seemed surprisingly relieved to be free of her doting. Azula assessed that even Zu-Zu probably got tired of those mushy, 'my handsome boy's'.

"I need you to do this for me, mother. Of course, I can do it myself, but it will take much longer. That woman would be more inclined to listen to a fellow mother."

Finishing her drink, Ursa replied, "I suppose I can try to get her to come around…"

"If she starts getting melodramatic, feel free to outdo her." Azula replied. "And if she tries to tell you that Wire can't handle himself, don't listen."

Ursa smirked, it was unsettlingly the one Azula herself constantly wore. "I know how to do this, Azula. Believe it or not, your father wasn't one for games." With a wink, she ruffled Azula's hair and set off on her mission.

Sokka was waiting for her on the other side of the room, a charming spectacle if she said so. He wore his hair down, a fashion she liked well on him. The bright reds, golds, and blacks of the Fire Nation complimented his complexion very well. She had fixed him with a golden arm cuff that clung dazzlingly to his right bicep. She wasn't surprised that he had shed the outermost parts of his attire. Hence why she had chosen an outfit that boasted more and more elaborate embroidery as one shed layers. He was absolutely perfect.

"So, you're with the tribesman now?"

Azula turned to face Xanu. "I have been for a while, yes." She replied. "I can't imagine that it's of any interest to you."

"Not particularly, no." He agreed, looking entirely unentertained by his own subject of choice. Only a simple conversation starter perhaps. "Will you do me the pleasure of sharing a drink, Fire Lord Azula?" He offered. He held up his own glass. "I could pour you one. A fine import from Ember Island."

"That sounds lovely." Azula replied. "But I promised Sokka that I wouldn't leave him with Yoona and Khoza for too long."

"You are the Fire Lord, he can wait." Xanu dismissed.

"On the contrary, I'd like his companionship."

"By all means, call him over, he can share a glass too." Xanu offered. "I have plenty, might as well give the man a taste of true high-class culture."

Against her better judgment, she motioned Sokka over. She couldn't gauge exactly what Xanu was playing at or if he was playing at all, but she fully intended to find out. Unabashed thrill lit Sokka's eyes as he scampered to join her. "You've met Xanu, correct?"

"Yeah, he and I talked once." Sokka replied.

"Care to join us for a drink," he paused, "Sokka?"

Sokka looked at her with unspoken concern. Azula tugged him in the direction of Xanu's table. Their discussion upon seating was mundane, almost horribly so. She wasn't interested in talk of the guard routines, she was decently familiar anyhow. Though Sokka seemed rather intrigued so she let the conversation flow around her. The drink he had offered, bore the name 'Island Water'. It was a brand she'd never tired and was more curious about its taste than the conversation at hand. She turned back to the conversation, which had turned to something of an expedition Xanu had embarked on earlier in the year. It took a ludicrous amount of willpower to not yawn very openly.

Xanu took the bottle and poured himself a glass. "Shall I fill yours?" He offered. "And yours as well, Sokka?"

"I only drink Water Tribe brews." Sokka replied.

"Oh, well you don't know what you are missing." Xanu took a drink from his own glass. "Fire Lord Azula?"

She took him up on his offer as eagerly as she did reluctantly. It had been so long since she had the taste of alcohol on her lips. In front of Xanu's team of guards it would have been tactless to refuse a generous offer. Sokka, unaccustomed to tradition, would be forgiven. For her, it would be a decent blemish to her reputation. With herself she decided that she had to prove something to herself anyhow. Even as he placed the drink in her hand, her belly fluttered nervously. If she couldn't exhibit a scrap of self-control her reputation would also be tarnished. Sokka shot her a despairing look as she lifted the glass. She took a sip, missing almost immediately the feelings and sensations the bottle had always brought. And this brand in particular had a sublime taste. It was a rather strong drink at that. The knots in her belly grew.

She had missed the taste so much…

.oOo.

He hadn't expected to ever carry a drunk Azula back to her room again. Yet she was leaning on him as they walked. But to his dismay, they weren't walking to her room. No, they were still walking around the ballroom. He knew that the party was going to be a disaster.

"Can we go back to your room yet?" He asked. "Please."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you Sokka?" She replied, leaning in closer. She tapped at his collar bone, with every withdrawal of her pointer, she added an extra dramatic flair. He had to find Zuko or Ursa, or even Iroh. "No, I want to stay here." She answered again when he didn't reply.

He didn't know what else to do, so he held her with a new degree of firmness, as if he could actually keep her from dashing off if she wanted to. Mostly he had to make sure she stayed on her feet. "Azula, please." He repeated.

Azula shook her head. "I'm fine, Sokka." This time she pulled out of his grasp. He could see the slightest hint of pink creeping across her cheeks. The movement wasn't quite steady and she swayed some. With more care, the princess made her way back to the table he had worked so hard to get her away from. A choice Xanu seemed very pleased with.

Sokka scowled, he couldn't figure out what Xanu was trying to accomplish here. He couldn't work out the why's of it either. "Are you sure you don't want any, Sokka?"

"Very." He replied.

"Are you a boy or a man?"

"That depends on the day." He grumbled. "I think I'm a man today."

This humored Azula. Though Sokka couldn't discern if it was funny to her because she thought he was acting like a boy, or because she thought his blatant refusal was funny. With a soft chuckle, the princess took a grape from the bowl next to her and popped it into her mouth.

"How about you, princess?" Xanu asked.

"Fire Lord." Azula corrected crossly. "I'm your Fire Lord."

"Right." Xanu replied with an awkward cough. "Would you like another glass, Fire Lord Azula?"

.oOo.

Azula thought for a moment, a feat that was harder through the fuzz in her head. Another glass sounded very delightful. Oh yes, she had missed it indeed. She missed the taste, the feeling, everything. Sokka cupped her hand tightly, looking completely disheartened and miserable. The look amplified as she reached for the cup Xanu offered. She brought it to her lips, feeling guilty. She supposed that for once it would be better to bask in that emotion. For as much as she wanted to part and let another swig warm her tummy, she still had the sense to recall that the whole point of this was to prove to herself that she could be trusted.

She could still do it though.

Could allow herself one more sip…

She looked at the glass and squinted. He had called her princess. Had it been a few months back, that would have been nothing of importance. That had been her title, it had been her title for a long time. She supposed a slip of the tongue would be natural since her Fire Lord status was relatively new. But she detected it in the same way she had in the Ash Pit, that he was using her former title to degrade her, though he did it with much more subtlety. He thought her a fool.

Azula set the glass down at once. She supposed she didn't need it anyhow. She could always have another at the next party, it would still be there. And if it wasn't she could have more of the stuff imported.

She had a string of witticisms in line but she wasn't sure that she could deliver them correctly at the moment. Even so, all she could manage in that moment was a simple, "I'm your Fire Lord." But it was spoken in a dangerous tone. One that took the snide look from Xanu's face, replaced by a look of knowing. She wondered if it would be better to play it off and pretend to merely be upset over his 'slip of the tongue'—to play the part of the embarrassingly intoxicated princess until he revealed his intentions. Or if she should drop the ignorant act and extract his motivations by force.

"Yes, you have mentioned that." Xanu replied, eliciting a table of laughter. Granted the table only had two other faces.

"Can't handle your liquor can you?" One of them laughed.

.oOo.

Sokka's insides burned. He promised both Katara and Azula that he would keep himself in check. He had promised Zuko and Aang as well and even Toph—not that she really took it seriously. But all of them were testing him and Xanu's face looked so completely punchable in that moment. They had every intention of taking advantage of the drunk Fire Lord.

"I know what I've mentioned and how many times I've mentioned it." Azula replied, she rose carefully, gripping the table quite tightly. He could tell that she was fighting to stay steady. He realized then, that the woman was only tipsy. For unsteady as she was on her feet, she was otherwise coherent. Her speech, though some crasser and blunter than usual was clear and concise. He put his hand on her back. "I also know how many drinks I've had."

"Too many, apparently." Said a the other guard.

"And…" She paused, her lips slowly curving up in a half-snarl, half-smirk. "I know how many guards I have." She took a moment to look at their smug expressions. "Currently there are exactly one hundred and twenty-seven guards working here. Now there are one hundred and one hundred and twenty-four." On trembling legs and in a line that wasn't quite straight, she came to stand behind the guard who had spoken first. Tapping one of her long nails upon his shoulder she muttered, "you can turn in your uniform, Rokem. And yours as well, Lan."

Rokem shifted uncomfortably, he got to his feet only to have Azula push him back into the chair. At once Sokka tensed up, he'd been on the receiving end of a few of her drunk rages, he hoped she didn't drink enough to get hostile. With a look that kept him in his seat she turned to Xanu, but only for a moment before changing directions entirely. She looked back at Rokem. Her smirk grew, letting Sokka know that the direction hadn't changed at all, there was simply a new step in whatever she was thinking. She sauntered over to Xanu. "And you. You're under arrest."

She leaned on the table, lacking a good degree of poise and elegance. "I changed my mind. Rokem, Lan, arrest him."

Xanu blinked, "what for, prince—Fire Lord?!"

Azula shrugged languidly, "haven't decided yet, but it has something to do with treason."

.oOo.

Azula didn't take well to that kind of humiliation not at all so she would make sure it would be paid back in full, when she got her senses fully back about her. For the time being she put all of her focus into not stumbling over herself as she made her way towards a table of more trustworthy guards. "Kai, see to it that Rokem and Lan fulfill their final duty."

"Are you alright, Fire Lord?" Kai asked.

"I'm fine. If you ensure that I stay that way, you might just get to steal Xanu's title." Azula replied. Kai always had been her favorite guard anyways. As a girl he always let her sneak around the palace regardless of Ozai's wishes. It was amazing, Azula fumed to herself, how that man would always come around and make a mess of her life. Ozai had been the one to appoint Xanu in the first place. It took her longer than it should have to realize that Sokka had crept up behind her. "Get my mother."

Azula put her head in her hands, as a wash of dizziness hit her. What an eventful party, she supposed that it wouldn't have been one without some sort of political spat. As fate would have it, Ursa had went above and beyond in her assigned task. When Wire's mother refused to give any headway in letting her son go free, Ursa had followed her home. Under normal circumstances she would have been highly entertained, hell it would probably amuse her in the morning. But she need her mother. Instead she had a very displeased Zu-Zu and an equally as alarmed Katara.

"I can't believe you would do this again." Zuko scolded.

For the sole purpose of proving that she wasn't wasted she replied with abundant snark, "I can't believe you would fuck Katara." Her already flushed cheeks, reddened a tad more. She had meant to say, 'hook up with', but the drinks spoke first.

"W-what?" He sputtered, her question had caught him off guard. "That never happened."

"Relax, I was just joking." She replied with a cheeky little smile. Now that was rich, she had only been trying to mock their parental attitudes. Now little Zu-Zu was all flustered and Katara's ranting was over. Her smile faded some, she had probably proved that she was in a questionable state.

"Sokka, how could you let this happen?" Katara asked.

Azula had the sense to reply, "I'm fine. Really, everything is under control."

"So you aren't drunk?" Zuko challenged.

"I could have been." Azula shrugged. "Believe it or not, I can control myself. Trust me." She knew that, that was asking a bit much of him. Until then, she didn't even know if she could trust herself. But she found herself reassured. She looked over at Sokka, the look he met her with told him that Katara had just hit a soft spot. "Anyways, I'm a big girl, I don't need Sokka to do everything for me."

"He shouldn't have let you…"

She cut Katara off. "He didn't." She had to give credit where it was due. "After the first few we went for a little walk, gave me time to think things through."

"Why did you have the first one?" Zuko interrogated.

"Because, I needed to know that I could." She replied.

"You couldn't have done that in better company?" He countered.

It was a fair point, but she didn't feel like explaining herself, not when the hall was swaying. Instead she gave a dismissive wave. "Just help me to my room before I decide that I don't want your help."

.oOo.

Sokka had foreseen all kinds of horrific outcomes, but as per usual Azula took the only route he hadn't expected. He found himself abundantly thankful that she was safely in his arms and hadn't made an idiot of herself. She had grown groggier as the minutes wore on and had taken to sleepily snuggling herself against him. But she was still awake and mostly alert, though the level of it fluctuated.

He thought that she would fall asleep if he kept rubbing small circles on her back. He could hear her humming softly at his touch. Contrary to his assumption, she took him aback for the second time that night. Instead of slumping to the pillow, she pushed him back against it and crawled atop him, purring as she did so.

Sokka sighed. Carefully removing the princess from his body he muttered, "not tonight Azula. Maybe tomorrow, if you're still in the mood."

She crossed her arms and pouted.

"You need some rest." He added. He could see very plainly that she was dissatisfied with the answer. So he offered those pouting lips a kiss. He brushed a hand through her hair and laid her down. "Get some rest, you'll thank me in the morning."

Azula muttered something and rolled onto her side.

He truly hoped that getting Wire back to Chan worth this whole near catastrophe.


	56. Chapter 56

Azula hadn't felt such aches in such a long time. The pounding in her head was dull and mild, almost ignorable. She felt lethargic in a very vague sense. For her troubles she hoped that her mother would at least come back with Wire in tow. Azula squinted against the rays of sun that broke through the parts in the curtains. Each minor beat in her head brought with it a generous jab of guilt until she was overcome with a sense of failure and sorrow. She racked her fingers through her hair, so much for staying sober. The sickly feeling twisting her stomach had little to do with her brief indulgence. She covered her eyes with her hands and gripped at her hairline.

"You alright?" Sokka asked, she wished he had woken sooner.

"I don't know." She replied dejectedly, probably giving him the impression that she wasn't at all okay. She pulled herself into a sitting position, rubbing the weariness out of her eyes.

Massaging her shoulders he inquired, "how do you always manage to get yourself into trouble like this?"

"Because I still have a drinking problem." Azula spat bitterly. "I've been fine for months but I…" She couldn't quite bring herself to admit out loud that she had messed it up. That she had ruined her perfectly clean streak.

"I think you're past that now, wouldn't ya say?" Sokka laughed. She narrowed her eyes and offered his arm a hefty punch. He wasn't taking this seriously and she wasn't in the mood for it. "I'm serious." He grumbled as he rubbed the now tender spot on his bicep. "You're fine. You can have a drink every now and again, just don't overdo it is all." He gave a reassuring smile.

"I already did." Momentarily forgetting about the throbbing behind her eyes, she let herself drop back onto the mattress, amplifying the sensation. "I have a problem."

"Do you want another?" Sokka asked.

"What?"

"Do you want another drink?" He repeated.

"No." Azula replied but a part of her did, very much. She had gotten a taste of what she'd lost and by all means a part of her did want it back. "Not particularly."

"Well then…" he trailed off. He didn't understand. It wasn't that simple by any means.

"I almost had another glass, you know." She replied.

"But you didn't."

She supposed that, that counted for something. She liked to think that it did. Even still she was left with a vague impression that she had done something wrong. The taste of alcohol that still lingered in her mouth was mixed with the sour taste awful events usually left.

.oOo.

Sokka wandered the palace listening to whispers and seeking news. Xanu's arrest had sparked much of that. Among the whispers he was displeased to hear theories that the Fire Lord was slipping again and that she had arrested the man in a bought of unfounded paranoia or in an embarrassingly intoxicated stupor. He hoped to see that gossip out and hoped just as furiously that it wouldn't bother the woman they spoke of.

He knew he ought to get packing; hours before Azula had announced that Ursa had been very persuasive with Wire's mother and they'd be leaving for Ember Island shortly. But he had to know what Xanu's goal was. He was astonished that Azula herself wasn't in the man's cell prying for answers. But then she was rather sluggish that morning and, if he dared say so, moody. Which wasn't an optimal state for an interrogation. But wanting to go to Ember Island at a time like that? He wondered if she was underestimating the situation or if she was eager to put some distance between she and the danger.

He joined the rest of the gang for lunch. He thought briefly—more out of habit than anything else—that he shouldn't be leaving Azula alone. But he had to trust her, if she needed him she would make her way to him.

"Are any of you coming to Ember Island with us?" Sokka asked.

"Hell yeah!" Toph shouted. "I've been meaning to practice my sandbending."

Katara cocked her head, "since when?" And to Sokka, "A trip to Ember Island sounds nice."

"Good, I was hoping you would come." Sokka smiled.

"It'll be nice after everything that's happened." She agreed. "I think it'll be a good place to talk things over some more."

Sokka nodded.

"I just got back." Zuko said his piece. "I think I have to pass this time. At least one Fire Lord has to be watching the palace."

"I was also going to stay behind and keep Zuko entertained." Aang noted.

"What about Ursa and Iroh, will they be joining us?" Sokka asked.

"No, uncle's heading back to Ba Sing Se to check on his tea shop." Zuko took a bite of a croissant. "Mother is occupied at the moment." The way he said it, made Sokka shiver.

"She's with Xanu isn't she?" Sokka asked.

Reluctantly Zuko replied, "she thinks that he went after Azula to get back at her for something, not because he had anything against Azula in particular." He paused. "I hope that's all it is, if not then he might be in league with Ozai."

"He might also be mad that Azula kicked him in the nuts. Apparently, it's a long story." Sokka suggested. But before anyone could laugh he squinted and asked, "why would Ozai go after Azula?"

"Because she's the Fire Lord and she hasn't used the power to free him yet. That's my guess anyways, I don't know what goes on in his head. I don't want to either."

"If you find out anything…"

"You'll be the first to know Sokka." Zuko finished. "Second actually, Azula will be the first to know."

.oOo.

Ember Island was a miasma of elegant and exotic scents and sounds. Banana and mango weaved in and out of coconut. Various birds cawed away intermingling with the chitter and chirps of hog-monkies. The surrounding jungle was a myriad of enchantingly foreign sounds and sights. Azula savored it. It had been so long since she'd ventured to the beach. With a balmy breeze fluttering her locks and carrying the sweet scents to her, she felt at ease. It was a lovely break from the frantic business and political circus of the palace—no wonder Zuko had fled here—and this time she hadn't the burden of pure escapism on her mind. No, she was there in good company and seeking more of it, a thought that soothed even further. She was almost able to put it out of her mind that she had let herself slip some. Even if Sokka disagreed, she still felt a tinge of guilt for having taken the first drink in the first place. She trekked over the sand where it met the water. It felt dazzlingly strange to be back near the vacation home she never thought she'd use again.

Upon re-entering there was an air of warmth that had been absent for so long. She tossed her towel over the balcony railings where it flapped in the wind. She was glad that she decided to take a day there instead of heading right over to Chan's.

"Here, have a rock." Toph offered.

"Why do I need a rock?" Azula asked.

Toph plucked the rock onto the towel with such a snarky wrist flick, Azula was nearly impressed. "So your towel doesn't make like Sokka and transport itself across the ocean."

"I hate you." Sokka muttered.

"He loves me." Toph whispered to Azula.

They all needed this, the Fire Lord decided to herself. And if all went as planned she would be tackling two problems at once; she'd bring Wire, Yoona, and Khoza back to the rest of their friends and make good with Chan while getting Sokka reacquainted with the ocean. She truly hoped that for once things would go as seamlessly as they used to.

A gust of wind rattled shell-made windchimes. Such a soft and lulling melody. Azula propped her arms on the railing and peered out at the tropical-scape before her.


	57. Chapter 57

Azula lie in the sand with her hair fanned out around her. Sokka threaded another hibiscus into the crown he was making for her. But it never seemed to work quite well. He didn't know how Yoona did it she was pumping the things out like an old war-age Fire Nation factory. His seemed to crumble before he finished them. He could already see a tan creeping into Azula's complexion a she lounged leisurely on her towel. With her so invested in her sunbathing, Sokka was left with time to think and he found himself wondering again why she was so willing to put herself at risk for this Wire guy. Sokka had conversed with him briefly, he seemed like a nice enough kid Sokka supposed.

"Hey Tribesman!" Hollared Khoza. "Put that flower crown away and join us in the ocean."

"He doesn't like the ocean." He heard Toph shout back.

"Neither do you." Katara pointed out as she neared the shore.

"Yeah, but I'm not from the Water Tribe." Toph replied. "Imagine if I was afraid of rocks." She picked up the tiniest pebble she could find and started shrieking at it.

"Toph, stop it." Katara covered her ears.

"Exactly! See how annoying that is?"

"I don't yell and scream whenever I see the ocean." Sokka shot back.

.oOo.

Azula rolled onto her back. They were a noisy bunch that was for sure, unlike Zuko, Mai, and TyLee. It was odd to be in company so different from the kind she used to keep. She listened to them go back and forth for some time, feeling the sun soak generously into her skin. Already the island sun seemed to be burning away her troubles and the waves washing away the last of her guilt. Though it did pain her to admit that she was curious as to what kind of other exotic drinks the place had to offer. Maybe she could have a taste in a more controlled environment.

"They loud." Yoona pointed at Toph and Sokka who were still engaging in their battle of wits.

"Yes." Azula agreed. "Quiet. I'm sure we could probably find a quiet place if we wanted." She eyed a particularly shady cluster of palm trees. "I think Khoza would enjoy reading under those." On the contrary, the young man was trying his very hardest to dunk Wire—who despite his short stature, always seemed to have the upperhand.

She stood and stretched, deciding that if she was going to get Sokka in the water she may as well do it then. "Come on, Sokka." She took his hand.

"Where are we going?" He sputtered.

"Where do you think?" Azula replied. "I want to go for a swim, and I want you to join me." Before he could protest, she tugged him along with a mischievous grin.

"You can't hate the water forever, Sokka." Katara gave her input.

"Watch me." Sokka argued. But somehow he had a feeling that Azula wouldn't let him resent it forever. She was chest deep in the saltwater before he could give one single cry of protest. A more primitive part of him feared for her. Feared that the ocean would swallow her up and he'd never see her again.

The feeling of the waves beneath her as she floated on her back was rather divine. Unexpectedly so. It had been a great many years since she'd gone swimming. "Come on Sokka, don't tell me you're going to let a firebender out swim you." The look in his eyes told her that if he were a waterbender she might have received the splash of her life. Instead he charged—somewhat hesitantly—into the water and splashed her the old-fashioned way. As annoying and peace-breaking as that was, she was glad to have the man in the water. With any luck she would help him create some fond memories of the water to replace the ones that haunted him so. With even more luck it would distract her from the jittery feeling that came with thinking over how to approach Chan.

.oOo.

The woman was a beautiful nightmare. A reoccurring nightmare that always came to him when he expected it the least. Granted if she were to make an unexpected appearance, it would make sense that her face would be seen in the party crowd. In his party crowd. He had to admit that he hadn't thought of her in ages. Azula was dressed relatively simply in comparison to her usual flair. But she was still a radiant presence in the room. A vibrant presence that he didn't know what to make of. All at once he wondered how bad things were with her tribesman to have her running back to him. He ought to ask her how lonely she was. He pretended not to notice her as she weaved through the crowd, but he had a sinking feeling that she knew that he already had.

"What's she doing here?" Bo-Rem grumbled.

And from Yoko he heard a harsh. "You invites her?"

"That's the thing, Yoko. I don't have to." Chan replied. "She has a habit of showing up unannounced."

"Can't really do anything to stop her." Boryuk noted.

Chan left a moment of empty quiet for Taeyul to chime in, but as of late he was even less for words than usual. Ever since his run in with death, he scarcely uttered a word. Wire had always been the one to get him talking again when he was in one of his somber moods. Their group was in tatters, dispersed and separate and it seemed to affect poor Tae the most. If Chan had to guess he'd say that Taeyul somehow blamed himself. Chan had to admit that he might have been responsible for that, on one such occasion he considered that if Taeyul hadn't contracted that infection then they would still be together in the Pit. He shook his head, thinking of the place had his stomach twisting in melancholy knots. He adored the grand splendor of Ember Island but it no longer felt like home. Not like the Ash Pit did. Ember Island was breathtaking and clean…and safe. But it was a cesspool of upper class lies. At least with the Pit, he knew who to trust, who really wanted his companionship. There was a sense of loyalty in the Ash Pit that he couldn't find in the upper rings of society. And to his great dismay, Azula—a quintessential example of a deceitful noble—was nearing him fast. She had played him for a fool many times, she had probably been stringing him along just so she could get her fix all along. He was finally finding a sense of stability again and she was going to undo it.

"Hey, isn't that the bitch who trashed our party a while back?" Ruon-Jian asked.

He hushed his boyfriend. As charming as Ruon-Jian was, he had no tact when it came to matters of holding the tongue. He never had grown out of his boyhood taunts and jests and often tangled himself with people of statuses higher than he held. One badly placed snide remark or two had him on the blacklist of high-ranking traders and military generals among others. According to his recounts, he'd been chased clear down the beach by the husband of a woman had called a hippo-cow. Chan was faintly amused, such a fiasco was how he had come to reunit with his childhood companion. Even so he didn't want to deal with Azula's reaction to jabs at her ego, especially since she had likely just gotten it back intact. Lost in his anticipation, he felt Ruon-Jian elbow him. "Isn't she?"

"Yeah, Ruon, that's her." He muttered.

"Tell 'er to go back home." Bo-Rem demanded.

"Where she belong." Yoko added.

"I'll be back in a minute." Chan replied. "Just let me deal with this." He cast a look in Azula's direction, he could see her eyeing him with a purpose. With a fair deal of spite, he kissed Ruon-Jian as firmly as he could. She probably thought that he was the pettiest fool in the world.

.oOo.

"How are things?" Azula asked the tropical night wind gently tousled her hair. It had been so terribly long since she had last been on this balcony and with it came a myriad of memories, both pleasing and not so much.

"They're fine and they'll be fine again when you leave." He replied.

She admitted that, that had stung. She'd expected reluctance but the bitter bite to his voice…he resented her. And it bled through in his tone. "I wasn't planning on staying." Azula fought to keep her gaze locked with his. "I was here to drop someone off."

"What?"

She motioned for Wire to join them on the balcony. "It was kind of tricky to find him but I thought that you would like to see him again. Yoona and Khoza are here too."

"For how long?" Chan asked.

"Yoona really likes it here." Azula smiled softly. "She has a thing for the volcanoes. She wants to explore one sometime. I don't have the time to take her, maybe you'd like the honor?" She watched Chan ruffled his own hair, something he did often when he was frustrated. Or when he didn't know how to take something. She assumed that he had expected her to show up at his doorstep, hands ablaze with blue. "Wire is going to stay with you, I'll make sure of that.

"What are you talking about?" He asked.

"I'm not letting him go back to that woman." Azula said firmly. "She reminds me of my father. She treats him how my father treated me…" she trailed off. "Maybe worse. At least with my father, you could tell that he didn't care. That woman, she's nice to Wire but only when she has a crowd."

Wire shifted uncomfortably.

"He needs some place to stay, I suppose if you don't…"

"No!" Chan shouted. "I do, I want to help him. You know that I do."

"But…"

"Nothing." Chan muttered. "He can stay with me. I just didn't think that I'd be seeing him so soon, I thought that I lost him."

"You thought that you lost Ruon-Jian too." Azula shrugged. "You always seem to find your way back to the people who need you."

"What about you?" He asked. "You care about them too."

"It's a lot easier for me to throw some money around and visit you here then it is for you to come back to the mainland." Azula shrugged.

"So, is this your way of apologizing for using me?" Chan asked.

Azula scowled to herself. Frankly she had enough of apologizing. Heartfelt sorry's were never her thing anyhow. "I guess it is."

"Well then I'd actually like to hear an apology."

Azula scrunched her nose. In some ways Chan was a lot like Sokka, and this was, without a doubt, one of those ways. "Listen, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have Ruon-Jian."

"Say it." He pestered.

"No."

"Then your apology isn't accepted." Chan crossed his arms.

"You're an ass just like Sokka." She grumbled as she propped herself against one of the wooden pillars of the balcony. This drew a small snicker from Wire.

"I can't believe your using me as an apology present." He declared.

"I can take him back." Azula noted. She looked back and assessed Wire's reaction to the suggestion. He didn't seem to disprove.

Chan rolled his eyes. "Thanks for bringing them back. Yoona told me she wanted to see Ember Island, it was a dream of hers. You also gave Khoza a taste of his dream life." He sighed. "I suppose you did more good then harm."

"You're welcome." Azula replied, her smug expression was cut short by Chan's arms wrapping around her. She had missed the way he held her. She faintly missed being in the raw atmosphere of the Ash Pit, laying next to him. She was forgiven.

For some time, he remained with his arm slung over her shoulder. The sound of the ocean lapping and the palm fronds rattling put her more fully at ease. It reminded her of old times. Times that were much simpler, yet somehow so complex at the same time. Of a time when she had met a boy she found on par with herself and tried to flirt with. He rubbed her arms like he had so long ago, before they had their first falling out. For all the world, it reminded her of those quiet nights with him as she recovered from her first bought of insanity. A time when she had a string of golden pearls in her hair and a fake laugh to give. This time when she laughed it was genuine. His joke was just as terrible, worse than any of Sokka's, but his confident delivery of it…that's what humored her. He placed a hand on top of hers and they listened to the call of a tiger-toucan. She hoped that Sokka wouldn't mind. She liked to think that he felt secure enough with her. She would make sure to have a nice night with him when they got back to her vacation house. She imagined that Chan and Ruon-Jian would have a night of their own.

"You're going to write me." Azula broke the silence. "When I leave Ember Island, you're going to write me a long letter about how you managed to patch things up with your father and Ruon-Jian."

"My dad was pretty easy. I left, he realized that I wasn't as bad as he liked to think I was, he regretted his decision, you know how it goes. Now Ruon-Jian and I, yeah, I'll have to write you the whole story."

"Once I get that, I'll tell you all about how I found Wire." Though she wasn't sure that it would be as compelling as Chan's tale. She looked up at the stars, thinking that perhaps throwing in a recount of her time spent in the Water Tribe would help her outdo him.

"Or I could tell him about how you found me." Wire put in. "And I'll have to introduce him to Petro."

"Oh right, Petro." Azula replied, "yes, you can stop by sometime tomorrow and pick her up."

"Who's Petro?" Chan asked.

"His new girlfriend." Azula answered without missing a beat.

"She's an elephant-mouse." Wire said.

"Well that's an awful thing to say about your girl." Chan jested. It might have been the only genuinely humorous joke he'd made all night. And Azula found herself grinning. What a ridiculous thing to find funny. It felt so normal. Everything about that day felt so normal. For that it felt right. She had a small taste of what it would have been to just be an ordinary woman in a flashier beach house. An ordinary woman just conversing and peering down at the beach where campfires burned and the smell of cooking meat wafted up to meet them. And that sense of normalcy felt so wonderful.

.oOo.

Azula arrived later than he expected. But that was alright because it had given him more time to prepare. The room smelled of nag champa incense and hibiscus petals, though the incense seemed to vastly overpower the petals. The room was lit only by a few flickering candles that cast a warm glow about the place. He wasn't a good chef by any means so Katara had to walk him through it. As he followed her instructions they had another long discussion, sorting out the matters that he thought needed more addressing. They talked until his mind eased some and by the time the discussion was through, he had finished his baking. He arranged different platters on the floor, he knew that they'd never be able to eat it all but he would save the leftovers for Toph and Katara. He re-arranged the layout a few more times before settling on the one he'd picked to begin with. With all of the spare time Azula had left him, he sprinkled a few petals around the floor and waited.

At last the Fire Lord made her way inside. "Why is it so dark in here?"

"Just trying to set the mood." Sokka answered.

Azula cocked her head, "what mood?"

"You'll know it when you feel it." He replied unhelpfully. She narrowed her eyes in confusion. It would seem that Azula was even less romantically inclined than he had initially anticipated. He sighed, she was something else. He took her by the waist and led her to the center of the room where he had arranged all of the candles into the shape of a heart. He tried to anyhow, it was a little lopsided. He motioned for her to sit and handed her a strawberry.

"Oh." Azula mused softly. "The mood."

He might not have been the best at this kind of thing, but he wasn't alone. Maybe that in itself was why things had gone so well. Neither seemed to have dauntingly high expectations for one another. Sokka thought that they might not have had any expectations at all. He certainly didn't expect to be sprawled out on the floor with her on top of him, laughing because he had forgotten to add ice cream to his ice cream cake. He didn't know why they had to be on the ground to do that, but he didn't mind. He was fond of the way her head felt on his chest and how her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt. Her hair getting in his face was something he could do without, all the same he wouldn't have it any other way.

The soft smile that tugged at her lips was mirrored on his own. For the first time in a long time, he felt completely undisturbed, untroubled. In the faint illumination of the candles, he could tell that she was completely relaxed. As he did so often, he found himself rubbing up and down along her back as the candles flickered. She tapped her fingers on his collar bone. "I love you." He whispered. He thought that it might have been the first time he blatantly vocalized it.

Azula nuzzled her head against his chest, "yes, thanks for doing that."

He rolled his eyes. Again, he found himself amazed by her apparent struggle to be affectionate. Even so, she kissed his neck, leaving her lips to linger there. He decided that—in the same way Azula was comforting—she was loving in her own way. Very loving, but very unconventionally and borderline awkwardly so. And much like the progression of the night, he wouldn't have had it any other way.


	58. Chapter 58

Azula knew that she would be hesitant to get on the boat that would take her home and back to Xanu and the gossip of the palace. On Ember Island she was, for a moment, just Azula. The nights were wonderful, Chan invited her over for a bonfire. He'd given her a taste of many native platters that she hadn't yet gotten a taste of. Over a few dishes Sokka decided that Chan wasn't so bad. It probably helped that Ruon-Jian had his arm around Chan the whole time.

"Want some?" Bo-Rem offered, handing her an extravagant looking bottle.

Azula still found herself rather weary and declined the offer, even though it had been made in good taste. She was tired of guilting herself and refused to give herself anymore reasons to do so. She watched them pass the bottle around, even Katara took a small sip. But the girl couldn't hold her liquor, the Fire Lord had never seen such a comical expression on a person's face. Katara was disgusted through and through, "how did you ever drink this stuff!?"

"It tastes so much better when you have something to escape from." Azula shrugged.

Toph on the other hand snatched the bottle and downed almost the rest of it, "that's how you do it Katara."

"You sure, you don't want the rest?" Ruon-Jian asked.

Azula shook her head.

"Toss that over here then." Boryuk lifted his arms to catch the bottle. Ruon-Jian did as requested only to have his throw intercepted by Yoko.

"Thanks fer sharin'. This the good stuff." He commented as Boryuk grumbled bitterly to himself.

"For sharing." Yoona corrected, proudly. She looked to Azula, seeming so completely pleased with herself that the firebender had to offer her some praise.

"Look at ya soundin' all posh 'n prim." Taeyul commented. It was the first thing he'd said all night and was the comment that opened a rather long discussion with Wire about life in the upper ring. Azula thought that he was in better spirits now that Wire was back. The two were always particularly close.

Their was an atmosphere of festivity about the place. Wire waved another komodo sausage over the fire. With another glass opened and being passed about, Azula got a sense of familiarity. This was probably the first time in a very long while that Chan's group was partying like they used to. Partying like things were right in the world.

And maybe they were.

Sokka looped his arm around Azula's neck. "Man, if only Aang and Zuko where here."

"I don't know about that." Azula replied. "I don't know if this is Aang's kind of night. And Zu-Zu is a bit of a kill joy."

"I'm going to tell him you said that." Sokka vowed.

"I'll tell him myself." Azula shrugged. She laid herself across his lap, resting a hand on her belly and with the other she toyed with a lock of hair that had fallen into Sokka's face. That particular strand he had tied a string of beads to. If she stared straight up she would be face to face with a boundless stream of stars. The night had graced the with a dazzling meteor shower. Distant white-hot bursts that left elaborate blue-white streaks in the sky.

"I ain't see nothin' like that 'for." Yoko commented.

And Yoona, she'd heard the girl squeal in delight many times, but never to the length she did then.

Even so, Azula could only look at the sky's spectacle for so long. She was more closely captured by the way those glittering meteors reflected on Sokka's eyes. They looked as if they belonged there in some way. She sat herself up.

She couldn't say how late they had stayed up but the Fire Lord was growing sleepy. She just didn't want to be the first to say so. She imagined that Katara would be the first to call it a night, and then she'd follow in suite. The stars fell for hours and each burst was as thrilling as the next. At some point she had asked Sokka if he wanted to join her in the water again, the way the cosmic display reflected on the water finally drew her in.

.oOo.

Azula was in the water before he was and Katara had followed her first. With the stars in the background and the mood dressing her hair, she looked almost ethereal to him. She was a very soft silhouette accented by a silvery halo. Her hair fell down her back and over her shoulders perhaps longer than he'd ever seen it. For a moment she disappeared beneath the gentle waves. She resurfaced with her eyes closed, lips parted, and head dipped back. She began squeezing the water out of her hair. It was one more scene he had to capture as vibrantly in his mind as he could. He had painted her at her worst, he ought to paint her as she was then. It was strange how compatible the woman was with water.

He went to the ocean's edge. And, for once, he did so without discontent of any sort.

.oOo.

Azula was pleasantly surprised that he had come to join her so quickly. He cut through the waves with the natural fluidity she expected from a Water Tribesman. And in one graceful moment, he lifted her from the water. She wrapped her legs around his torso and her arms around his neck. She felt his hands supporting her, one on her lower back and between her shoulder blades. The moonrays seemed to highlight the strong lines of his face. Those strong cheekbones and jawline that she enjoyed so well. He kissed her forehead. She relished in the feeling of the tropical breeze on her bare wet skin as he held her with the care she'd been so deprived of for so long. As things were with him, he was again—in only one moment—making up for all of the affection she hadn't been given. She must have been more tired than she had thought because she thought she may have drifted off. It was the only thing that accounted for her waking up on her beach towel by the firepit. She woke to see Katara still dozing next to her, the fire reduced to little more than a soft orange glow hidden in a heap of ashes. Chan, Wire, Khoza, and Sokka were among the last to be awake. She was surprised that Toph had called it a night so soon, until it crossed her mind that the girl might have over did it on the exotic drinks.

"I thought you were asleep." Chan noticed her first.

"I was, for a little bit." The visages of sleep still hadn't worked their way out of her voice. She held back a yawn and made her way closer to the rest of the group.

"It's been a nice night." Wire declared. After that it was quiet for some time as everyone seemed to fall into their own thoughts.

Azula stretched and stood. She decided that it would do her well to go for a quick walk. She hadn't expected Khoza to join her.

"You're not so bad I guess." He said after some time of simply trailing alongside her as she walked along the shoreline. "You're kind of a bitch sometimes but, I like you." He had a way with words, she had to roll her eyes. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me, I brought you to the palace to get you to stop whining." Azula shrugged.

"That's not what I was talking about. But yeah, that was nice too." He replied. "I mean thanks for finding Wire for us and for taking care of Taeyul…and for brining us here. You didn't have to do any of it."

"That's true." She agreed. "But I wanted to."

"Why?" He asked.

She shrugged again. "I just felt the need."

"I guess I was wrong, for once."

"For once?" She snickered.

He brushed the remark off. "When I said you were selfish. I guess I was wrong."

"At the time you weren't." She admitted. "Well, not entirely, anyways." She burrowed her feet beneath the sand and looked up at the horizon. The last of the meteor shower had died away, probably while she dozed off.

"I'm kind of glad to be wrong for once." He replied.

"It's always a pleasure to prove people wrong." She dropped herself back onto the sand and let the sand wash over her feet. She wasn't surprised to hear the sifting of sand as Sokka came to stand behind her. And then Chan and Wire behind him. With the others fast asleep behind them and the occasional late-sounding pop from the firepit Azula felt at ease. She had every intention of basking in that before returning to the clamor of the palace.

So long ago Lo and Li vowed that Ember Island had a way of making people see their true selves or something sappy like that. Azula didn't know if she believed it until then. On Ember Island she had shed the last of her troubles.

After much thought, on Ember Island, Azula decided once and for all that she was okay with who she had become.


	59. Chapter 59

t was easy for Azula to pretend not to hear them whisper about her, she had much to do and no time to pay them any mind anyhow. With any luck they would figure it out on their own, that their Fire Lord was in impeccable condition. In time they'd see that her suspicions were very well based. Xanu hadn't spoken anything much to Ursa, save for a vague admission that his intentions were dark. It had taken a fair deal of intimidation to get him to admit even that much and Ursa hadn't the stomach to go beyond a simple rousing of fear. Even so, after a quick chat with Zu-Zu, Azula came to draw her own speculations—theories that were more akin to translucent conclusions. But she wasn't quite ready to address those matters yet; the boat ride from Ember Island had left her feeling unusually queasy. So she took to her bed first, trying to coax Sokka to speak more of Suki. He'd talked to her about much else but always seemed to dance around the subject as if it were a taboo of sorts. This time he dodged the subject, insisting that Azula didn't have the energy to deal with it at the moment. "And besides I've got to finish this painting."

"Sokka, the portrait will still be there when you're done talking to me." She insisted. Mostly she was feeling okay anyways, she thought that she might be up and about sooner than she had anticipated.

"But the mental image won't be…and the paints might dry in their tubes."

"You have the worst excuses." She bunched her nose. "I can buy you new paint and you know that you're good at remembering these things." She sat up, supporting most of her weight on the bedpost. "But fine, if you don't want to talk, I've got other things to do." She decided that the hour of rest had been plenty enough. She fetched herself an outfit for the day and headed for the door. "If you run out of paint let Zu-Zu know, he'll get you more." And with that she was off. By this time she had come to know that if she left Sokka hanging and pretended to be uninterested, he would come to her with his problems. She supposed that he was a lot like her in that way.

She heard the shuffle of footsteps before she could make it halfway down the hallway. "What things do you have to do?"

She didn't answer him right away. "My father and I have to have a little discussion."

At this Sokka visibly cringed.

"If you can talk to him, I can." Azula replied. Before Sokka could counter she added, "Yes, Zu-Zu told me about that. Apparently he wasn't very helpful."

Keeping her nonchalant bravado was growing increasingly difficult as she found herself nearing the prison. She shouldn't care, but she did—very much so—about what he thought of her. Her care came more out of habit than anything else. Without any exchange of words at all, she knew that he thought lowly of her. And just as much out of habit, the thought stung. For this she found herself thankful that she had let Sokka come along.

She knew that it was Ozai that drove Xanu to make his move, but for what reason? Azula made her way into the mouth of the prison. The prison she shuddered to be with in such close proximity to, knowing how close she had come to being one of its residents. I occurred to her then, that it might not have been a good idea to bring Sokka along, he was just one more thing Ozai could use against her. Numbing as many of her nerves as she could, she told Sokka to wait outside. Azula re-fashioned her hair and smoothed down her clothes. Sokka pulled on her wrist before she could enter the room with Ozai's cell. He tucked her bangs behind her ear, "good luck."

"I'll be fine." She replied. She hoped that she would be anyways. She took another moment to compose herself in full and run through her script one last time before pushing the door open. She stood quietly for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge her. When he finally turned around she started, "Xanu. You picked Xanu. Honestly, he was probably one of the least competent guards we had. But then, you were the one who appointed him as head guard."

"What do you know about competence?" Ozai grumbled.

"Enough to evade Xanu and plenty more to earn myself a little something…" she motioned to the five bladed crown of the Fire Lord, "and I didn't even have to steal it away."

Ozai snorted. "A waste of power." He shook his head.

"I suppose the only correct use of it would be to give it to you?" Azula replied.

"Better than leaving it in the hands of a drunk." Ozai sneered, "and here I thought that you were the pride of our family." He paused. "I suppose that's what happens when your eldest son sets the bar so low, and yet…you managed to slide under even that."

Azula fought back a flinch, she thought he knew only as much as she let him see in the past. That she had suffered a startling breakdown and no more than that. A familiar prickle of self-loathing seeped through the cracks in her armor. She fought to direct the feeling elsewhere and ended up glaring at her father with such a piercing hatred.

"Xanu kept me up to date on the state of the palace." He shrugged. "He told me that he let you venture off one night to find yourself some drugs."

Another uneasy jab churned her belly, at the realization that her clever escape hadn't been so clever at all. He had seen her and he had let her go.

"I told him to act sooner, when you were still on them. It's a shame he didn't have the guts." Ozai mused aloud. His words roused the sickly feeling even higher. He was planning on using her all along. "It was pretty easy to get Xanu on my side, especially after my lovely wife came back into the picture. He hated you already for besting him in the military. And he hated your mother for leading him on like the tramp she is."

In all her years, Azula never imagined that she'd get angry on behalf of her mother. She worked her jaw ready to speak her piece.

"Like mother like daughter." He spoke first, his face marred by a hideous leer. "I told him that it would hurt her if something happened to you. Add a promise of a share of power and he was finally ready to act. It's a shame, what you've become."

Azula sighed in relief. "If you don't like it, then I suppose I'm doing better than I thought." She propped herself against the wall. "So what would you have done? I wouldn't have been able to get the crown for you when I was on drugs."

"That was Xanu's job." Ozai shrugged. "He'd have gotten the crown, said a few kind words, and handed it to you. He'd have said more reassuring and pretty things to you afterwards…"

He would have played on her insecurities. She shuddered to think of it, she liked to believe that it wouldn't have been that easy.

"Eventually he would have put the idea into your head, to let me free and give the crown to its rightful owner. But the fool waited too long! He was supposed to make his move before you sobered up."

Everything in his tone indicated that sobering up wasn't part of the plan in any way at all. "And if I had given you the crown?" She knew she shouldn't be asking questions she didn't want to know the answer to. "Would you have helped me?"

"If I had the time, maybe." He waved the question off. "Understand that I would have had a country to rule. What you did with yourself after that wouldn't have been a priority."

Azula concluded that he probably would have brought her an unending supply of Ruby Tears if it meant getting her off of his back. He would have indulged her in her habits until they killed her. In the same way it reeled her already uneasy stomach, it was, in a way, comforting. Comforting to know that she had no longer had reason to tether herself to him. To feel pity for the shell of a man wasting away behind those bars. If he couldn't spare her a hint of concern when he knew that she had been killing herself from within, wasting herself away, then she owed him just as little. And she owed him even less knowing that he'd have had Xanu flirt with her if it meant earning him his power back.

"Everything was going so well…" Ozai trailed off. "It would have worked."

Sokka was a wildcard through and through Azula decided. And luckily, he was in her deck.

"It isn't enough to disgrace us with your drugs and by talking to things that aren't there. You had to let tribe trash litter our bloodlines as well. Even Zuko didn't do that." Ozai snarled.

Azula licked her lips, he was striking at every sore point. But somehow the cuts didn't reopen. She wasn't crazy, she wasn't on drugs, and she was rather proud of her tribe trash. "I suppose this cell is built from pillars of glory and bars of honor. No wonder it's so impeccable." She gave the metal a soft kick. "Tattered prison uniforms and straggly hair is the picture of nobility these days." She turned around and with the wave of her hand added, "I'll be sure to ask the Avatar to take my firebending too, I have to make sure that I'm the picture of dignity."

"You showed much dignity at your party. How did it feel to lose control again?" His voice was slick and baiting. "One drink more and I would have had my crown back, and you? You'd probably right back where you started."

He had been counting on her to let herself fall again. He had so much faith that she was still a slave to the bottle. It scared her that he might have been right. That he very nearly had been. She took only three or four steps before turning back around. If there was one skill she retained from her days as daddy's little girl, it was her potent ability to lie. "Oh, that's not true at all. your plan wouldn't have worked even if I did drink the whole bottle last night. I promise, it isn't even possible for me to be drunk enough to give you the crown." Even if she was, it would be at the point where she'd be to trashed to do it anyhow. "Anyways, I'd love to talk more but I have to poison the bloodline some more." She couldn't possibly put herself any lower in his eyes, so she might as well have some fun. Just to see the look on his she added, "I'll be poisoning the bloodline tonight, in my bedroom. I'll name the it after you." She let her hand fall on her stomach for emphasis. "How's this for a title: grandpa Ozai."

That look was worth it. Worth every single venomous word that fell from his lips after it. That look of sheer horror, that no one had ever been able to instill in him before. She wished she had invited Sokka in so that he could render it forever in paint. She strolled across the room and unlatched the door.

"Get back here!" He demanded with the volume and in the tone that used to jar her to the core. The harsh tenor that had her scrambling to do exactly has he bade.

"I can't. I have a country to rule." She shrugged. "What you do in your quaint little cell isn't a priority."

.oOo.

Azula was very silent for much of the night, Sokka was growing concerned that her father had gotten into her head. She didn't speak much of their conversation and when she did it was very vague. He had to have struck some nerve because she didn't seem any less burdened when the gossip of her going insane turned to words of praise that she had saved their nation with her foresight. 'Crazy' and 'drunk' had fast turned to 'clever' and 'fantastic actress' when news of Xanu's confession spread. Sokka shuddered, he didn't even want to know how Ursa drew that one out. Even with all of the praise, the Fire Lord had kept herself perched on the roof, deep in thought.

"You should come down from there, what if you fall?" Sokka tried.

She simply waved him off with a very soft, "I do this all the time."

So instead he climbed onto the roof with her and offered to let her sit in his lap. She stood and made herself comfy in his arms. She had her eyes on the drooping sun.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine."

"What did he say to you?" Sokka pried.

"It wasn't anything he said."

.oOo.

It was what she spoke, that troubled her. She had only meant to boil her father's blood to the fullest. But now she couldn't put it out of her mind.

She had Sokka. He was hers without a doubt, but she found that she didn't know exactly what to do with that. But at the same time, she did. She knew that she wanted to keep him, marry the man perhaps. But what then?

Azula had put the suggestion out in spite but, she wasn't sure if she fancied the idea for real. Wasn't sure if she actually wanted to make good on her taunt, much less if Sokka would like to make good on it. It was more of an unconscious motion, something she hadn't even realized she'd done. She moved his hand over her belly.


	60. Chapter 60

In the weeks to follow, Azula had fallen back into a sort of routine; wake up, have breakfast, firebend, address any matters that concerned her as the Fire Lord, and join Sokka as he painted away. The smell of paint was beginning to cling heavily to his room, it was no wonder he preferred to sleep in hers. She had to admit that there was more stress than she had anticipated in being the Fire Lord, even when sharing the crown with Zu-Zu. She began to find it hard to fathom actually running the nation on her own as she had so fantasized about as a girl. It hadn't helped any that she had to make more arrests, as it would turn out, Ursa had a keen ear for the palace whispers. By the end of the first week Azula had been back, the woman had uncovered three more traitors in the guard. It was getting to the point where she and Zuko were discussing the pros and cons of getting an entirely new palace guard.

The stress was starting to show on her face, she fond herself sleepless again. Her eyes somewhat hazy with faint bags re-appearing. She confessed to letting her hair fall into a state of minor disarray that Sokka would comb through at the end of the day tsking as if his own weren't a tad straggly. Zuko was in a very similar state, if not even more haphazard as he rushed from one end of the palace to the next. At least there was a very solid and almost impeccable sense of unity between them now.

But there was one concern she had that her brother did not share. Especially being as he was just beginning to rekindle his relationship with Mai—the two were still in the gushy 'I love you phase'. Azula found herself surprisingly thankful that TyLee had tagged along. She was far savvier in the way of romance than Azula. TyLee was hesitant at first, watching Azula as if she were some kind of animal that had been backed into a corner and ready to strike. Azula couldn't really hold it against her though, for the same reason she didn't fault Zu-Zu for his initial weariness. It had taken the appearance of Sokka to put TyLee at ease. Seeing him embrace her so fondly, must have alleviated some of her reluctance because at least, she tossed her arms around the Fire Lord in a way she hadn't since they were companions. Though Azula spoke none of her concerns with Sokka in ear shot.

"You guys are so-o-o cute." Ty Lee squealed when he was finally off to squabble with Toph.

"I guess." Azula muttered, sweeping a wave of glossy black locks off of her shoulder. She pulled her legs up to her chest, leaning her weight against the wall behind her.

"What's wrong?" TyLee asked, "Are you worried he doesn't like you?"

"Oh, that's not the problem at all." Azula replied. It was very nearly the opposite of the problem. She had to admit that she never imagined anything serious and/or long-lasting with the man. If she were being wholly truthful, at first she thought that her love for him would have extended as far as the healing process went—that she only loved him because he had saved her. But the more time she had spent with him, the more reasons she found to care for him much further beyond that. Maybe if she had anticipated the long-term, she would have thought ahead. But the oaf had snuck up on her. "I wasn't supposed to love him you know. That was an accident." Was all she managed.

"Of course it was!" TyLee clapped her hands together. "You don't just plan on falling in love with someone." She rolled her eyes as if that was the most obvious stamen in the world. And maybe it was. It probably was, Azula decided.

Even so, Azula liked to go in with a plan. To know exactly what move would be made next. But she didn't plan this—any of it—she was never given the chance. She hadn't even planned on falling in love with him…

.oOo.

Sokka hoped with all of his soul that TyLee would be able to ease Azula's mind. Ever since seeing Ozai she seemed unsurprisingly troubled. Yet she kept insisting that it had nothing at all to do with her father. No matter how much he tried he couldn't pry the issue out of her. For some reason she regressed into bottling it up again. She mentioned once or twice something generic about how "running the Fire Nation is difficult." He sensed that it ran deeper than that. She was looking rather tired again but not enough to cause him any particular concern. He just feared that she would get worse.

It was time for a new plan; he would share the last of his worries if she opened up to him.

He made his way towards her bedroom were he found her surrounded by considerably large stacks of paper and scrolls. She was racking a hand through her hair as she flipped through a stack of them. She paused, put her paper-ruffling hand on her hip, and blew at a strand of loose hair. "Hey." He greeted. He sat down causing the bed to dip and a few pages to scatter.

Azula narrowed her eyes. Picking up the larges scroll she could find, she swatted him over the head. "Go pick those up!"

"I don't know if I feel like doing that." He replied.

With a huff, she got off of the bed and collected her papers. He knew she'd find some sort means to get a petty sort of vengeance later. "What's all of that, anyways?"

"Contracts and trading logs among other things." She replied.

"Contracts?"

"I'm planning on renovating areas of the Fire Nation." She answered. "Zu-Zu wants no part in it, he hates keeping track of the royal finances." She set the papers aside. "What do you need?"

"Just wanted to check on you." He said. "I was also hoping you were still interested in the rest of the Suki story."

"Oh, I am. Very much." She folded her hands in her lap.

"Katara has mostly helped me come to terms with it, but I still wanted to tell you." He started. "I don't remember if I already told you, but she was pregnant."

"You may have mentioned that." Azula moved closer to him.

"I could have been a dad, Azula." He whispered.

"Would you have wanted that?" She asked.

"I don't know what kind of father I would have been…"

"But did you want to find out?"

"Yeah, I kind of did..." He trailed off. "I don't know if I'd even be a good father but I still…I wish that I had the chance. Ya know?" He found himself repeating that he could have been a dad. He found that as Azula stared at him with an unusually soft gaze that it still stung. It still hurt him very much to have never known his child to be. He got to experience it in only the most ambiguous sense. That very instinctual care and love that came with touching Suki's baby bump. A very vivid taste of what should have been. He found himself teary eyed once more. He swatted at his eyes, reminding himself very much of the woman staring quietly at him. "It's not fair."

"No." Azula agreed. "It isn't."

"I never got the chance…" he repeated.

"You act like you won't get another." She shrugged.

"Do you want to be a mother?"

.oOo.

That truly was the question. The one that had her so quiet and so conflicted. She felt awful for Sokka, to get a touch of something so beautiful but only one touch…

Azula took Sokka's hand in her own, for lack of anything else to do. He was eyeing her so imploringly. But she didn't know how to answer him just then. That didn't stop her from trying. "I guess it wouldn't be so awful." But the truth was she had trouble picturing herself even holding a baby, much less caring for one. She had a hard time even picturing herself carrying a child. "I don't know that I'd make a good mother." She lie back down and stared at the ceiling, but not before glancing at Sokka.

His face fell. "I think you'd be fine. As long as you don't copy your dad."

"You want to be a father, don't you?"

He nodded.

And with that nod a healthy portion of her reluctance abated. Still she had her fears. She traced her fingers over her still flat tummy. She truly had trouble seeing herself carrying a child. "That's good to know." She noted, rolling onto her side.

"Why?" He asked.

.oOo.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" He asked

"I might be."

His face lit up once again and he took her in his arms, holding her so tight that she muttered a word or two of protest. But he continued to hold her just as close, his fingers bunching the excess fabric of her robe. "Is that why you've been so quiet lately?"

"Yes." She murmured into his shirt and then once more and unmuffled when he loosened his grip enough for her to move. He could feel her body slacken some.

"Did you tell anyone else?"

"Just TyLee." She pulled out of his embrace.

"You're mom is probably going to be happy! And Katara! Katara delivered a baby in the Serpent's Pass once…"

Azula put a finger to his lips. "Slow down, Sokka. I'm not completely sure yet."

But he was. He was very sure. With the news in the open he found it very obvious. A bundle of teeny signs that he had missed beforehand. The sheen of her hair, the sparkle in her eyes, and the difficult mornings. He'd seen it on Suki, he'd felt it. Ignoring the Fire Lord's half-hearted protests he came to set his hand on her abdomen, brushing his fingers tentitivly.

"Stop doing that," she grumbled. "It's weird."

"No it isn't." He disagreed but withdrew regardless. He should have anticipated her discomfort. "You'll be fine." He assured her, opting to rub her back instead. She always seemed to enjoy that. "When are you going to tell everyone else?"

"When I know for sure." She answered.

His head was dizzy in the most delightful way. He was getting a second chance and this time he wouldn't let anything happen to his family. He rubbed his cheek against Azula's. He never imagined that he would call her family.

.oOo.

The twinkle in his eyes remained. "I know for sure."

It was rather soothing to hear, though she still had her concerns, Sokka at least made it sound like everything would be alright. She had put so much thought into telling him and into sorting out her own feelings on the matter. Yet, for all the dwelling she did on her the matter she still hadn't come to a conclusion.

She felt Sokka's touch fall on her belly again. This time she didn't bother telling him to remove it, instead she set her hand over his and squeezed.

The truth was, she was scared.


	61. Chapter 61

It had been a lie, more to herself than anyone else. She had been very sure that she was with child, she'd known it very well for very long. She just didn't want to be certain because if she wasn't certain, then she wouldn't have to fret. But she was absolutely, wholly sure that she would have be a mother within months. That is if Sokka could keep her convinced that it was a good idea. She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered as she watched the typical bustled of the courtyard from her spot on the roof. Very briefly Zuko managed to steal her attention away from her troubles. In his hustle to get from one side of the palace to the next, he tripped over his robes and into the turtle duck pond. Mai could have helped him but as Mai usually did, she simply stared and yawned until he specifically called for her help. From her perch Azula hollered, "the bath is inside Zu-Zu." It had been good fun until Mai hurried him along. And Azula was back with her musings. Just as he always did, Sokka joined her. Sometimes they talked, sometimes he just watched her watch the courtyard.

Days turned into weeks and Azula found that she could deny things to herself no further. Her mornings were always rough. She thought them reminiscent of her hangovers, which plummeted her mood even further. And then that would be amplified by the pregnancy itself until she was nearly in tears with Sokka holding her hair back and muttering encouragingly. She bunched herself up in bed waiting for the nausea to pass. Every now and again, Sokka would allow her to peek at his third painting. So far he'd only finished the background. It was a collection of deep blues and blacks and in places where the moon was heavy, some brighter shades of blue. She thought that he was improving in quality too. For a while she watched but she was growing antsy, she hadn't ran through her stances in a while. In starting them, she quickly remembered why she had stopped her practices in the first place. She found herself growing tired more frequently and her armor was growing uncomfortably tight. Pouting like a child, she took it back off, set it aside, and sat down where she continued to brood to herself for some time.

"What are you doing down there?"

Azula looked up and muttered a soft, "hm?"

"You don't look very comfortable." Zuko noted.

"I'm not." She folded her arms over her chest. "Help me up." She extended her arm. And with a shocking lack of protest, he helped her to her feet. She righted the wrinkles in her shirt and eyed Zuko, wondering if she should mention her predicament. She wondered why she was being so hushed about it in the first place.

"You okay?" He asked.

Before she could loose her nerve she grumbled, "I'm pregnant, that's what I am."

"Sooo…not okay?"

"I don't know." She replied twirling her bangs around her finger. She was two months in, at least, and she still didn't know if she wanted a baby at all. Especially now that it was beginning to cause her body havoc. It was already making her training difficult, she couldn't imagine being able to keep it up months from then with aching feet and a sore back among other things. In light of Zuko's question she was slowly coming to concluded that she was not okay at all. "I don't want to do this." She whispered.

Azula could see it on his face, that she had put him in an awkward position. "If you can take over Ba Sing Se, I'm sure you can have a baby." He tried, very unhelpfully if she said so.

"That's different." She argued. "Everything happened according to my plan when I took Ba Sing Se. I had everything under control."

"I'm just gonna—." He pointed at the door. "I'll send mother."

Before she could utter a single word of protest her skedaddled, leaving her to fume alone and then scramble to come up with how to break things to her mother. Of course that didn't leave her much time to prepare for the special brand of doting her mother usually reserved for Zuko. Azula was still in remotely the same position, when Ursa finally entered. Her expression was so warm that Azula figured Zuko must have spared her from breaking the news on her own. She should have know that Zu-Zu couldn't be trusted to hold his tongue. Her mother stooped down and offered her a glass of tea. "Your uncle brewed this for me all the time when I was carrying your brother." She wrapped Azula's fingers around the cup. "It helped with the morning sickness."

"It's not morning anymore." Azula noted, well into her sulk.

"No, but I still thought you could use a nice cup of tea."

Though very much uninvited, Ursa at least had the decency to let her finish her tea before placing a hand on Azula's belly. That was just one more thing she wasn't looking forward to, people touching her with curious hands. She scarcely had a bump and she was already dealing with it. "Stop it." She hissed. "You and Sokka both."

Ursa mumbled an apology. "It's just that, I always enjoyed…"

"I'm not you, mother!" She snapped. "I can't do this." She truly thought that, that would be the end of it. That she wouldn't go through with the pregnancy after all. She just needed to find a way to tell Sokka. She bit back tears, it would crush him. She balled her fists as her mother pulled her into a hug laced with words of comfort.

For all of her refusal and all of her reluctance that month turned into another and she still found herself carrying life. She resented herself some for letting her mother and Sokka alleviate the fear enough to go through with it. A word or two from Katara practically sealed the deal. But Azula's potent anxiety never left. It, in fact, only seemed to swell with her belly. Firebending was becoming an even trickier feat as a result. She was off balance, even if it were only a tad. That alone wasn't the problem though, she could have adjusted to that. No, the baby seemed to rest right on her fire chakra, at times—if it shifted the wrong way—completely cutting it off. And she was only three months in. Eventually she called it quits, only running through the most rudimentary of stances. Upon first coming to this roadblock, the Fire Lord stormed down the hall in a pretty decent and very embarrassing temper tantrum. The kind with a decent howl of rage and a few tears. The kind she very heavily acquainted with Zuko. She realized, begrudgingly, that she was being far too emotional. That in itself made her even more so. She considered that this was her comeuppance for taunting Ozai about being a grandpa in his prison cell.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Sokka greeted when she practically kicked the door off of its hinges—it might have fallen too if it wasn't crafted from such sturdy metal—and flung herself onto the bed. "Hey, hey. Careful." He held his hand out and she knew what was coming. She was too exhausted to swat his hand away, so she let him rub along the baby bump.

"I want to firebend."

"You have two hands, go ahead."

"I want to really firebend." She hissed. "Anyone can toss a ball of fire from one hand to the other."

"I can't." TyLee pointed out.

"What's she doing here?" Azula arranged herself a pile of the plushest pillows and propped herself up against it.

"I needed a second opinion on my art. Toph keeps nagging me to grow a pare, but I'm no gardener so I decided to paint one. You weren't here so I asked TyLee what she thought."

"It's hideous." Azula scowled. "Case closed." She folded her arms and glared at the man, deciding that this was one-hundred percent his fault.

.oOo.

"Wow, you are pissed." He noted. Apparently so much so that she threw a degree of poise to the wind. Instead of the haughty sniff she usually gave to his quips she gave a very Toph-esq snort and rolled onto her side. "What's wrong?" He repeated only to be completely ignored. He tried again, yielding the same results. "Alright, I'm sorry." He lifted his hands, "I'm being an insensitive jerk. I'm the jerkbender this time."

"What does that even mean?" She frowned.

"Uh…never mind. Just…Zuko can tell you."

"Why can't you firebend, Azula?" TyLee asked.

"Could you do your little circus tricks like this?" Azula motioned to her belly.

TyLee thought for a moment. "I guess that would make it a bit harder."

Sokka took the Fire Lord's hand only to have her jerk it away. She was in one of those moods. He had a pretty strong feeling, based on the way she'd acted since her pregnancy began, that within a few hours she would get all cuddly and sweet again, especially if he bribed her with a cinnamon roll or two. Until then he would wait her discontent out. With any luck, TyLee would lift her spirits. He didn't have high hopes though, because the happy-go-lucky acrobat was already begging to see if she could detect the baby's aura—an activity that required more touching.

.oOo.

With her bending practice no longer viable to her, Azula found herself on the roof more often than not. She was nearing the end of her third month and feeling no better than before. If anything she was only growing more distressed. She had seen pregnancy on many people, but she'd never seen anyone so big. She wondered if a bump of this size was even normal that early on. Yet every physician she'd seen and Katara insisted that she was perfectly healthy. She certainly didn't feel the part.

"I don't even like children, Sokka." She complained on one rooftop occasion. "They're loud and dirty and generally disruptive." She could already see it; herself sitting, all polished and done up for a council meeting when a shirking child burst into the room demanding food or play. A table full of eyes would fall on her. She shuddered.

"You're going to love this one." He insisted. "I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Do you love me?"

"No, I had sex with you because you were the only option." She rolled her eyes.

"Good to know." He was getting good at brushing off her offhanded witticisms. "Do you love yourself."

"More or less." She sighed. "What does this have to do with anything."

"Well." Sokka answered with a lopsided, boyish, grin, "if you love me and you love yourself, your absolutely going to adore this child because it'll be like you and me combined."

Azula blinked in horror. "This child is going to be a disaster." And in almost a whisper she added, "a firebending, boomerang throwing, sassy disaster." She brushed her hands through her hair, feeling a notch more distressed than she was before the conversation occurred.

"So dramatic." She heard Sokka mutter under his breath before throwing his arms around her and kissing her neck. He was being gentle with her though, so she supposed that she would let it go.

.oOo.

Sokka couldn't lie, he was growing a bit nervous himself. She was making him nervous with all her talk of how the kid was going to have multiple negative predispositions and how it was probably going to grow up to be an alcoholic or an abuse of Ruby Tears. It was becoming tiresome how she couldn't seem to let that go entirely. Even so, he thought that she might have been right to be concerned there, if he could inherit his father's streak of anger, then it was probably entirely possible for their baby to inherit either that or a weakness for drugs. Just like that he began pacing about the room trying to tell himself that as long as they weren't like Ozai, then their newborn would turn out fine. He was setting the bar extremely low at that point.

When he didn't think about that he worried over Azula's physical ability to carry the baby to the end. He thought that she might be right that the baby was growing to big for her body. She had always been so small…

Azula herself was a concern. She was pushing herself, doing things that a woman five months in ought not to be doing. On numerous occasions he had to snatch up Zuko or Katara to scold her for trying to firebend more than her baby would allow. He'd tried to get Ursa involved on one occasion but the woman actually took her daughter's side, "it's good exercise" and "I did so many physical things when I was pregnant" were her choice arguments. Katara on the other hand wouldn't have it. Combined with Zuko's her nagging usually had Azula fleeing to her room for some peace and quiet.

Other than that, things seemed well. Katara and a team of palace physicians reassured them that the Fire Lord was still progressing well. That everything was going smoothly. Azula herself, seemed to be calming as well. He wasn't willing to say that she was used to being pregnant, but she seemed to have come to accept it. She seemed very vibrant and full of life, her face bright—a little softer from the pregnancy—but very bright indeed.

He touched her cheek with the back of his hand; she was very warm. He slid his hands down her sides and let them rest on her hips, a motion she mimicked. He concluded that then was as good a time as any to ask her to marry him.

It was a spur of the moment decision so it was painfully unromantic. A very simple request without even a ring. She told him that he ought to be embarrassed, and his cheeks did flush a decent shade of red. But she didn't give him time to wallow in his embarrassment before accepting his hand.

.oOo.

Month six had Sokka interrupting her time on the roof more often. "What if you fall?" With him there were so many what if's. She couldn't particularly hold it against the man either, knowing that he lost his first child to an accident. With a sigh she caved and crawled back through the window, preparing herself for a very boring three months. Sokka was growing increasingly paranoid to a rate that matched her own during the longest of her nights. "I'm going to be fine." She insisted. "I'll protect our baby." She held her hand to her stomach.

"I know you will but…" he trailed off.

"I'll bring Zu-Zu along when I go into town, if it makes you feel better." Though she wanted to put in that she could handle such trips on her own. The Capital didn't hold the danger level of the Ash Pit. Even so she spent most of her time at the palace to appease Sokka's sense of security. She had letters from Chan and his gang and even one from Ruon-Jian to keep her company. Quickly she came to realize that she'd focused so much on Yoona's speech that she'd neglected her penmanship altogether. Try as she might, she couldn't read a word, but Yoona attached a bunch of beads and seashells to her message so Azula was left to assume she was enjoying herself. She also figured that many of her days would be spent trying to decipher Yoona's handwriting, she thanked the girl for giving her something to do.

Chan on the other hand, had handwriting as beautiful as his face. He finally recounted to her the tale of he and Ruon-Jian, she made a point of reading it like it was a sappy romantic text. Apparently, the girl who cheated on him with Ruon-Jian had moved away from Ember Island. This tore the boy up some and with Chan having fled to the Ash Pit, he was left virtually alone with abundant time to regret. Chan admitted to giving him the coldest shoulder possible, not even extending the man an invitation to his welcome home party. Azula chuckled to herself, relishing in that she wasn't the only person self-indulgent to throw herself a welcome back extravaganza. She read on; eventually I got tired of listening to him whine and mope up and down the beach. It was really killing the view. I swear he was actually taking some of the sunshine away and replacing it with his gloom. So I decided to that we were going to have a little chat…with my fist. The Ash Pit never truly left him, Azula noted. Well, he decided to talk back also with his fist. Our fists talked for about fifteen minutes before Yoko and this girl named Yixi broke us up. By that time we were rolling in the sand. I told him that I was going to kick his ass and he shouted 'joke's on you, I don't have one!' He never was good with insults. Azula skimmed through a few paragraphs listing each and every notably stupid insult Ruon-Jian had ever uttered and then another detailing their rematch. Anyways, after I kicked his ass he got back to sulking around and killing the island vibe again. I swear it was awful, everyone could feel the negativity. We couldn't even tell when the storms were rolling in because Ruon was creating storm clouds of his own. So I decided to talk to him again, with my mouth this time. I invited him back to my place and he started talking about the parties we used to throw. Don't laugh…she could already feel herself beginning to do so, she hoped that he could sense it from afar. But I am a very sentimental man. He started talking to me about calling your brother loser boy and stuff and I decided that I had to give him another chance. He was so distressed he called himself a loser boy. It was something like, 'and remember when I called the Fire Lord, loser boy? I don't have any friends right now, so I guess that makes me the loser boy. I just felt so bad I had to give him a second chance.

Azula folded that letter up and tucked it away with the others. Frankly, she wanted to hear more of this story. She would ink him a little request to continue after a night's worth of sleep. Her back was aching again and her eyes were feeling heavy.

By moth seven she would have thought that things would be less strange for her. But the feeling of so many people's hands on her belly was still dreadfully awkward. TyLee and Toph in particular liked to feel the baby kick. TyLee, took a genuine interest, Toph just seemed to get a kick out of making her feel uncomfortable and flustered. Azula herself still didn't know how she felt about the baby being so squirmy. The only exceptions to her discomfort became Katara, Sokka, and her mother. She found that Ursa was naturally nurturing and usually made the baby less fussy. Things only became awkward when the woman started talking to the baby. She supposed that it was probably for the best since she couldn't bring herself to talk to it, not until it was in her arms anyways.

It shouldn't have been strange at all to have Sokka caressing the bump—it was, after all, so similar to the way he rubbed her back or massaged her shoulders—but for some reason it continued to bother her for a period of time. It might have been that he was bizarrely tender with her these days. He treated her as though she were delicate and completely helpless.

For that, it was actually Katara whose touch became the least foreign first. The waterbender had a very natural approach, one that didn't make her feel like she was something to be ogled at. She was the only person who seemed to treat her as she would ordinarily.

It very much helped her case that she was able to dull some of the aches. Alongside the tea her mother stirred, Katara's waterbending continued to do wonders. She was able to take away some of the pressure on Azula's back and relive the aches in her feet. Mostly though, Katara's waterbending seemed to soothe the baby. If she moved her hands and the flow of water in soft and small circles, the baby would stop shifting so much. Azula soon found that heating her own palms and re-creating the motions had the same effect.

It was month eight that Azula found herself truly warming up to the baby. She was still nervous beyond all compare. A feeling only highlighted by her bedbound state. Her figure was undeniably initially too small to safely carry the baby she did. She and Sokka alike were silently afraid that delivering it would be the death of her or of the baby. She waited until the man was asleep to truly dwell on in. She hadn't told him just how awful it really looked—he probably noticed anyways. It would have been hard to miss her soft panting. At times the baby sat in such a way that she couldn't breath no matter how she positioned herself. The truth was, their child was crushing her from with in and she was terrified. Terrified to tears that she shed to herself as he slumbered. She tried her hardest not to wake him, not to instill feelings in him that he would be better off without. Trying not to dig up past traumas.

Stroking a tummy that was much too big for her she whimpered to herself. Occasionally she would feel the baby's hand or foot under her hand.

Azula wasn't meant for this. It wasn't her kind of fight and it wasn't the kind she thought she could win. She snatched Sokka's hand and gripped it tightly. She had just helped him heal, she didn't want to put him through it again…

She didn't want to die. Not after fighting for so long. Not after finding something that made her so happy again.

It was completely and dreadfully out of her control.


	62. Chapter 62

A loud pop and a bang echoed over the volcano, a tester, it was too light for it to be anything else. Emiru wriggled about in Azula's arms as she made her way down a rather rickety path. His soft golden eyes and the shape of his facial features were so completely Fire Nation, so completely her. But he had the hair and the complexion of a Waterbender. He was only like his twin in terms of appearance. In personality they were as opposite as their parents. Emiru was much more timid but he had her cunning and that natural spark, the one that told her he was going to be a fearful force. That is if he chose to embrace his innate firebending skill. Shizuka was incredibly outgoing and rather hyper. She could bend fire but showed very little interest in it, something that resonated well with Sokka as she seemed to like his boomerang. She had his awful sense of humor too. Azula couldn't tell who was less amused by it, she or Emiru who was often the first to hear her puns. Shizuka was content to dash off on her own, ever since the girl could walk, she hated being held. She shared that with her mother. But Emiru, at the age of five, still begged to be carried.

So she did. She carried the boy past houses in varying states of repair. Some were very nearly complete and others were just beginning. They were modest buildings but they had a rather welcoming air about them. One such house was missing a window or two, but in the mean time had a set of fluttering curtains to fill in the space. The air reeked of sulfur, but the pleasant aroma of fresh bread took the edge off. Still Emiru wrinkled his nose and jammed his fingers up it. That action she would place entirely on Sokka's genetics. Shizuka who seemed entirely unfazed by the stench wandered a few feet in front of Sokka, peering down various alleyways with an innocent sort of curiosity. On one occasion she emerged with a broken bottle. "Shiny." She held it out to Azula.

"Yes, very. Now put it down."

"It's pretty." She frowned.

"It's also dirty." Azula countered, knowing very well that she was in for a bought of whining when the girl's lower lip quivered.

"We can take it home and wash it off." Sokka suggested.

"Sokka," Azula hissed in his ear, "we don't need a broken glass bottle."

"I don't know I think Shizu has a point, it's pretty shiny."

Azula sighed fixing him with a sturdy glare. "You're not helping."

Sokka took the bottle from their daughter as they made their way away from a stack of rubbish. A sizable heap of debris that ranged from battered shingles and broken glass to planks of wood and discarded flower pots. The pile was tilted rather dangerously and Azula made a point of quickening her pace, just in case. By this point her arms were growing tired under the strain of Emiru's weight. The boy was growing quickly, a very early bloomer. Her tightened his arms around her neck with a babyish coo. The boy had a tendency to make random sounds upon growing bored. "When're the fire works gonna start, mama?" He asked.

"When it gets dark." She answered, petting his head.

"Why when it's dark?"

"So you can see them better."

"Why can you see them better." Shizuka joined the interrogation.

"Because…" Azula trailed off. "That's just how it works."

"Good answer." Sokka quipped.

"Do you have a better one?"

Azula had to admire the village's yards. The past five years had treated them very well. They were flourishing in full and dotted with vibrant flowers. Some still retained a sprinkle of litter, but mostly they were well maintained. Again Azula found herself resonating with the place, the past five years had been rather kind to her as well. Save for an occasional lapse—one that usually involved an unexpected throwback to the trips she'd had so very long ago—she found herself in better condition than perhaps ever. On most days she was put together well her nails polished and filed to a point. Her makeup fixed to her content. And her hair…

She decided to cut it once more, partly to get Sokka to stop complaining that it was getting in his face, partly to get Shizuka to stop putting it in her mouth, and partly because she wanted a small change. It fell in such a way that it was longer in the front—reaching almost her shoulders—and hung shorter towards the back.

In the same way the Ash Pit still bore signs of abuse; pot-holes, graffiti, and spots of mildew. Azula still wore scars across her arms, legs, and belly. And in the same way the pot-holes were filled in and the graffiti was morphed into true art, Azula found her scars glorified by a sense of confidence in them and a generous web of tattoos; a blue dragon with black claws. The artist who'd done the tattoo had masterfully positioned its claws so that it gave the illusion that it had scratched the scars into her arms. And in a sense the blue dragon had.

She found herself walked by a particularly fragrant yard. One that teemed with flora of many genus. Firelilies burst open in a brilliant splay reminiscent of a sunset. Surrounding the firelilies was an army of ruby-red poppies. And near the back of the garden sun-daisies grew twelve feet tall showing off pristine white petals and centers the color of sunshine. There were many other flowers scattered about but the Fire Lord couldn't even begin to name them. Vines licked the edges of the garden and crept up the side of the house the garden complimented. If she were being honest, she didn't think that even the palace grasses were that green and lush.

Before Azula could stop her, Shizuka dashed into the garden and plucked herself a poppy. No sooner, and not unexpectedly the door to the house crashed open. "Who picks muh flowers!?"

Azula rolled her eyes, "here we go." She sighed aloud.

"Mama Mozi ain't say that nobody ken pick her flowers."

"Sorry," Sokka laughed nervously. "She's only five."

Mozi set her hands on her hips. "I ain't know why you has such a thing fer muh garden." She looked at Azula, "if it ain't you steps on Mama Mozi grass, it yer kid steppin' there. You lucky that Mama Mozi like kids."

"Her name is Shizuka." Azula introduced.

"And that's Emiru." Sokka motioned to the boy.

"Ken Mama Mozi hol' 'er?"

"She doesn't like to be held. But Emiru does." Azula replied. She was reluctant to hand her child over to anyone in the Ash Pit. But Mozi, she decided, had done her well. So she let her take Emiru in her arms.

"He remind me ov muh own boy. He remind me of Nao." She snuggled Emiru against her a cheek, that Azula was surprised to see was decently washed. For a moment, Azula wondered where she had come up with the money to do so. She hadn't seen the woman attend the trade fair that she and Zuko held for the Ash Pit residents. Such was one of the earliest projects they had established for renovating the place. "Mama Mozi has flowers fer sell. If ya wants ya ken take one."

Shizuka's eyes lit up and she wandered over to the stall, Mozi pointed to. She teetered over to it as Mozi placed Emiru back in Azula's arms. The older woman smiled, apparently her wiggling tooth had finally fallen out. "He a good boy.

"Most of the time." Azula agreed. Emiru nuzzled his cheek into the cook of her neck.

For a span of time Mama Mozi just stared at she and her family, mostly her eyes rested on Azula, only leaving her to watch Shizuka take Sokka's hand. Mozi grinned again, that familiar broken-toothed smile. "Fer 'while Mama Mozi thought she'd see ya dead. Mos' folk who take the Tears don't part wid 'em. Mama Mozi glad you okay." She patted Azula's hand, leaving a spot of dirt behind.

Azula had forgotten that the last time she'd seen Mozi, it was in parting and she had still been very well into her addiction. "You need to wash your hands after you garden." Azula noted, not particularly wanting to bring the tears up in front of Emiru and Shizuka.

"Mama Mozi ain't got time fer that. Mama Mozi ain't from the uppa ring."

"If things keep going my way there won't be much of a difference between here and the Capital." Azula shrugged.

"Mama Mozi ain't gun wash 'er hans even if this place becomes like the Capital." She vowed. "Whats ya doin' back here anyway?"

Azula shrugged. "Just wanted to check in I suppose." The truth is, she didn't really know herself. Save for Mozi, she didn't know anyone who still lived in the Ash Pit.

.oOo.

"What a weird lady." Shizuka remarked as they walked away. "Who picks muh flowers!?" The girl mimicked.

The sun was relatively lower in the sky, Sokka had an abundance of mixed feelings and complaints about being in the Ash Pit after sundown, especially with their children by their side. Despite an wild slur of protests, Sokka had Shizuka in his arms. The girl was kicking and screaming until he handed her over to Azula and took Emiru. Shizuka knew better than to get fussy with Azula, lest she be confined to her room for a few days.

"Can we go home yet?" He asked.

"Stop worrying, Sokka. If I can survive this place at its worst, I can handle my own now. And I can protect the three of you." She shrugged. As annoying as it was, he was glad she felt so secure. So unafraid. "Besides, Zu-Zu will be here soon."

"Uncle Zu-Zu!" Shizuka cried happily. "He has funny stories."

Sokka saw Azula roll her eyes, no doubt because most of Zuko's funny stories involved rather embarrassing situations he and his sister had gotten into. He also had a habit of retelling some of the things Azula said while painfully intoxicated. On one occasion, Shizuka got Emiru to help her reenact such a story in front of the man Sokka had come to call, 'boring lecture guy'. He remained an important councilmen and was even less amused by shenanigans happening during meetings than he was when they discussed the Yu Dao in times past. Sokka didn't think he'd ever seen Azula look so flustered in front of so many people. Shizuka clearly had a talent. Sokka snickered to himself, he hadn't expected her to be anything less than awkward about being a mother. It was one thing he seemed to be far more comfortable with that she. Fatherhood came rather naturally to him, he just imitated the qualities he admired the most in his own dad. He taught Emiru how to hunt, but Shizuka seemed to enjoy it more. He then taught Emiru to paint, this is where Shizuka stuck out her tongue and cooed, "bo-o-ring." They loved his jokes and his stories about traveling the world with Aang. They loved tackling him on the floor and wrestling with him, mostly two against one.

At times Azula looked almost hurt. As though she were an outsider in her own family. At first it was true, that their children had gravitated more towards him. She meant well, but the Fire Lord was rather cold and stern with them in the beginning. Eventually Sokka ended up giving the a small push, he snatched Zuko (who grabbed Mai) and paid a visit to the Jasmine Dragon. With them an ocean away, the children only had their mother. According to Azula, they had nearly driven her insane again and their grandmother had to give her a hand.

It was only after Azula told Shizuka that she was allowed to firebend in the palace—after Sokka very specifically told her not to—that she declared that her mother was her favorite. She kicked Sokka in the shin and ran over to her mother, making a point of propelling herself there with a burst of fire. Wholly unhelpful, Azula supported this act of rebellion. Leaving Sokka open mouthed and Emiru to say, "it's okay daddy, I still like you."

All in all, he thought that his family was perfect. Particularly on the nights he would come home to find Azula asleep—after what was probably a very dull or stressful council meeting—with Shizuka curled up next to her and Emiru piled on top of her. He would tuck the three in and take to bed himself.

Even so he continued to have his low moments. There were times when he couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like it the woman he tucked in was Suki and their unborn baby. He wondered what kind of mother she would have been and what it would have been like to live on Kyoshi Island rather than visiting Ember Island. He wondered what it would have been to show Suki the Water Tribe's glowing sky curtains instead of letting Azula, Emi, and Shizu marvel at them. Often times Azula would sense it on him and just sit quietly with him. About three years in, Azula came to realize that there was nothing she could say to ease that kind of pain…that kind of loss and that the best thing to do would be just to sit next to him, with an arm over his shoulder or a hand trailing up and down his chest. She wasn't Suki, but after a while he finally concluded that he didn't need or want her to be. No, he was glad that he had Azula. Azula and her strange moods and her refined but somehow untamed personality. Azula and her odd way of expressing care. Azula and her seemingly complete understanding of his own quirks and sometimes violent tendencies. It was his biggest fear, his temper getting the best of him, and during times of stress it sometimes still did. So he was glad he had Azula, who refused to take any of his shit but was also empathized.

It took him longer than it should have to realize that he was indeed very happy with his place in life, satisfied with the way his path ended up unfolding. Even though he wandered blindly down the better portion of it, constantly taking turns that probably shouldn't have been there at all.

That path had lead him back into the Ash Pit with a wife and two children where he was spreading a small picnic blanket and an assortment of pastries and fruits.

.oOo.

Azula let Shizuka steal the first fruit-tart. Evidently, Emiru wanted the same one. "If you guys keep fighting over it, I'll give it to Sokka." She threatened, not a fan of that particular flavor, herself. Just like that she had two perfect little angels who were content to split the tart in half. She was thankful that she retained her ability to make things that she wanted sound appealing to everyone else.

Sokka pouted. "I wanted that fruit tart."

Azula rolled her eyes, "you're such a child Sokka." She watched another firework launch over the rim of the volcano, raining down a shower of gold and pink. In the light of the flash she could see a hoard of silhouettes descending the stairs to join them. Zuko, Mai, and TyLee in the front. Behind them she cold make out Aang's bald head and Katara locked in his arm. Toph trailed behind with Chan, Ruon-Jian, and Boryuk. And behind them Yoona and Khoza walked arm and arm next to Yoko and Bo-Rem. Azula wondered when they switched love interests. Wire and a still very bashful Taeyul lingered towards the back of the group.

"You didn't invite mother and uncle?" Azula noted.

"Iroh is serving tea to festival goers, and he recruited mother." Zuko explained. "Here." He handed her a rather large box.

Azula unwrapped it, to find what at first looked like an overlarge stone. "Gee, thanks, I've always wanted a large rock."

"Me too!" Toph grinned.

In the burst of another firework she could see the object much clearer. It shimmered like a cluster of rubies entrapped in pure amber. "Where did you get this?" Azula asked.

"Aang and I took a trip back to a certain lost city that I'm not going to tell you anything else about." Zuko replied. "I got one for myself too."

Azula smirked to herself, picturing family vacations taking on the back of a dragon instead of a boat. Better yet, she imagined dropping them off at school on the dragon—a much better ride than a simple palanquin trip. She spread herself out on the picnic blanket and looked skyward. Another firework and then a second to follow climbed the sky, leaving a glittering trail. Shizuka crawled clumsily over the blanket, at times brining her hand down hard and accidently on Azula's thigh or hip. Emiru covered his ears, complaining of the noise until Sokka scooped him up and explained the mechanics of fireworks.

Flashes of golds and oranges and blues and greens blended together after a few minutes and Azula found herself growing rather sleepy, listening to the endless chatter of her friends. Emiru, was already asleep in Sokka's arms, it was far past his bed time. Shizuka, she could tell, was forcing herself to stay awake, trying to soak in every last minute of that rare occasion when she got to stay up far past the norm. Azula heaved herself upright and took hold of Shizuka, rocking the girl as she pointed out her favorite types of fireworks. In due time, Azula her sleeping like her brother.

"They're so precious." Sokka squealed. "Look at them."

"I can't." Toph replied for Azula.

"Thanks for answering, Azula." Sokka grumbled.

"Anytime, Sokka, my one true love." Toph chuckled.

"You're completely obnoxious." Azula grumbled.

"Among other things." Toph agreed.

"I'm surprised Shizuka stayed up so late!" TyLee remarked. "Last year she fell asleep before the first firework."

"Share a drink with me?" Chan cut in with the offer.

Azula shrugged. It had been so long since her last one. She decided that she could and probably should trust herself. She couldn't see herself going overboard with twins to carry home. She took the bottle and poured herself a glass. She clicked it with Chan's, "to my engagement to Ruon-Jian."

"We're engaged?" He asked.

"Did I forget to tell you?" Chan questioned back.

Azula rolled her eyes, she had no clue how she'd gotten herself mixed up with that man. Apparently 'idiot' was her type. She set the glass down, bunched up a portion of the picnic blanket, and set Shizuka's head upon it and left room for Sokka to do the same with Emiru. In what seemed like another lifetime entirely, Azula had peered up at the same skyline—seeing the majestic outline of the palace between bursts of fireworks—feeling like she belonged to neither place. The Capital towered over the rim of the volcanoes with just as much golden glory as ever and with just as much warm radiance. It casted not shadows, but light into the Ash Pit. By comparison to her home, the Ash Pit was still rather run-down, but a speckle of the Capital's glamor was finally working its way down the volcano side. Like a hand reaching out, the Capital licked the sky with the fiery tongue of another firecracker. This one shimmered over the palace roof, as though they were trying to coax her back home. She liked to think that they were purposely aiming the fireworks high enough for her to see them still. That night she belonged to both the Ash Pit and the Capital and it was then a matter of picking where she wanted to spend her time. Somehow it felt right to spend it in the Pit where so much of her life had changed, where so much of herself had changed. In the place that made her realize that she need to help herself or no one else would…

No one but Sokka, who took to running his fingers through her hair and kissing her neck, sending a pleasant tingle throughout her body. The night had grown quiet, in the Ash Pit at least—she could still hear festival music from afar—save for an occasional, unprofessional firework from the village. She could hear Emiru snoring softly and Sokka's hushed breathing as he held her close.

"Happy birthday." He murmured when he grew tired of the silence. "I still love you."

"I guess I still love you too." She muttered, "I'm trying anyways." She leaned back into him with a devious little smirk.

"I think that it's working."

"It might be." She answered, trying to find a comfy position in his grasp. She finally found one, laying on her side with her ear against his chest.

She had been so scared to change. So afraid to become someone new and from where she sat, with a generous breeze and the sounds of distant celebration. And with the company she sat with, she had no idea where the fear had come from. Iroh and Zuko, she hated to admit, were right; a metamorphosis had been in dire need. She had certainly strayed very far from her old self, from that lost and hurt fourteen-year-old girl. And she was content to keep her distance. Content to be this newer version of her with slumbering twins and a Sokka that was likely just as new.

.oOo.

On the wall of the palace hung a series of portraits, old and new alike. One with a girl and a boy who looked so blank and so tormented with the hands of distant parents on their shoulders. The one next to it displayed a proud but scarred man with a stance of upmost dignity. And next to that hung an image of a very tousled woman, perched on a balcony with her hair cut short. Her face bore the pain of having been the girl in that first painting. Next to that was a warmer image, one that took place in the palace garden during the sunset hours, he could still see the pain in her eyes. And next to that was a beach scene, this picture was different from the others in that the woman was happy. And the last and newest portrait, that one was his favorite. It detailed the boy and girl from the first painting but they looped their arms over each other's shoulders. The mother from the first portrait was a grandmother in this one, a boy and a girl played at their mother's feet, giving viewers the sense that the painting hadn't been posed at all. And on the other side of the girl was a Tribesman, grinning big—happy to be part of the portrait for once.

He couldn't say he had helped her much. He couldn't say that he had helped her at all. But he was proud of her. Iroh didn't have much time left before he passed into the Spirit World, but he would hold out a little longer to let her know that he had nothing but respect and love for the woman she'd become and the person she helped Sokka become.

They were a family, controversial at the time, but a family. A genuine family with deep history that had taken so much time and effort. And so many tears to create. But that family, his family—newer members and older—was finally as it should have been. As it could have been if not so touched by the war. For the time all was right…

A finished piece.


	63. Alternate Ending

A baby girl, Chiruka and a boy he called, Setsuna looked up at him with innocent eyes. They didn't know what they had just done. He handed them off to Katara without so much as a second glance. She stood very quiet, her hands bloodied and grim. "Sokka…"

He didn't much want to look at her either. He knew that it wasn't her fault, that she could only do so much. But he was descending into irrational territory again. He took Azula's pale hand. "You have to wake up now." He whispered. "You have to wake up now and say hi to Chiruka and Setsuna. You have to tell me if those are good names." He was practically whimpering. "I-I don't remember which names you wanted to go with." But the Fire Lord, his Fire Lord didn't stir. "Please wake up." He shook her. He didn't want to because what if she woke up and yelled at him. He would have preferred that, in fact there was nothing he wanted more then to have her bolt up right with a scowl and mutter, "knock it off, and let me sleep, I just had two babies."

"Zuko, tell her to get up."

Zuko gulped, "she never listened to me before…"

"Katara? Aang?" He tried desperately. "Can't you do some Avatar stuff?"

Deep down he knew that Aang had already tried. He tried everything from waterbending with Katara to manually breathing for her with airbending techniques Sokka had never seen before. He gripped Azula's hand harder. "Come on, don't do this to me. Don't put me through this again. You can't just help me get over Suki and then…"

She turned her head to him and to his surprise her eyes cracked open. But they were glossy, glossy and distant. "I don't…" he had to strain his ears to hear her. "I don't want to…"

"Don't want to what? Put me through it again? Die?"

"Sokka…" He could see a tear slide down her cheek.

.oOo.

She couldn't help but be terribly resentful that she couldn't seem to die no matter how many scars she put on her wrists, that life refused to let her go when she was completely and horrifically miserable. But now that she had love and a life that she cherished more than anything, it was being taken from her.

She had so many things that she wanted to say. That it wasn't fair. That she didn't want to die, that she didn't want to hurt him by doing so. That it wasn't right that this was happening. Not after she had fought so hard to be happy. She wanted to tell him that she had different names picked out for her twins. For her Emiru and her Shizuka. She wanted to tell him not to blame Katara and not to resent their children. Their precious beautiful children. But all she could mutter was, "Sokka, I'm scared. Sokka…I'm so afraid…"

She didn't know if it was a last breath or a final sob she had taken. But in that last noise, for only the smallest second, she knew that she was gone.

And suddenly the fear was too…

.oOo.

He felt her grip tighten around his hand and then go slack. Another tear fell down her cheek, a mocking residue of the life that had once been there. He grabbed fistfuls of her gown and bawled into it. He had been so close. So close to love. But just like that, it was gone. "How could you do this to me?" He inquired softly. And the second time he repeated it, "how could you do this to me," it was a pained holler. One that made everyone in the room flinch and set the twins wailing. He always knew that getting mixed up with her would hurt him. But he never imagined, especially with her so far from the Tears, the Ash Pit, and the cactus juice, that she would hurt him like this.

.oOo.

The throne felt hollow without Azula sitting next to him, judging him for every suggestion he made. Her ran his fingers through his hair with more stress than ever. He had no idea how he was going to follow through with renovating the Ash Pit, that had all been her idea. She knew the place better than he did, she knew what it needed. She was the one who was able to make the idea sound good to the Fire Nation treasurers. Deep down and very forlornly he knew that the Ash Pit probably wouldn't be getting the assistance they needed after all. The council would certainly push him towards other matters, including making the last of the war reparations—something Azula had been in the middle of convincing them to waiver some. He found himself tugging at his own hair. This was the kind of stuff he needed her for, even if she teased and taunted him the whole time. He was too generous and too compliant. He was the compassionate ruler, a beloved one, but he feared that he would be the death of his own nation by letting people walk all over him.

With the death of his sister came a whole new onslaught of people mercilessly trying to take advantage of him during his period of mourning. Ursa became the only buffer to that, and the woman herself was in a state of grieving. He could see it in her eyes that the ordeal was killing her from within. She had just mended things with her daughter and now she was gone. And to top it off, she had to protect him like he was a feeble child.

And he was alone. Alone with Ursa and Iroh. Alone with those two when it was time to put Azula in the ground. Alone when he gazed upon her face for the last time. Cold and beautiful she was. As beautiful as a corpse could be anyhow, her skin was starting to discolor and had the bloat of death. The smell of it too. She wasn't supposed to find a home in the Fire Lord's crypt so soon. Not before him and certainly not before their father.

Zuko found himself furious that Sokka couldn't be fucked to come and say goodbye. To attend the funeral of his would have been wife. But he also understood. He understood that Sokka probably wouldn't have been able to bare going through this a third time. He just wished Aang or Toph would have at least stayed behind. But they had all gone with Sokka and Katara.

.oOo.

He didn't want to, but he did. He hated those children with all of his soul. The only two parts that didn't were the parts that knew Azula wouldn't want him to and the parts that saw how closely the babies resembled their mother. But that soon gave way to a new resentment. It seemed to him like those babies were trying to replace her. So he left them to Katara for many years, wanting nothing to do with them.

He almost didn't care when Katara told him that Chiruka wandered off and she couldn't find her. He almost didn't care when Aang added that a good winter storm was coming. All he could think of was how painfully that reminded him of Azula. Even so, Sokka was a lot things, he held within a lot of anger—perhaps more than he ever had. But he still couldn't bring himself to let the child freeze to death. Even though the search for her brought back so many feelings, so many memories. He thought on one occasion, that he saw Azula. Saw her beckoning him to the place where Chiruka lie huddled and shivering and crying. But no one else had seen her, so his Fire Lord must not have been there at all, not even in spirit.

It was on that night when Setsuna finally asked, "why don't you love us, daddy?" He didn't know how she had sensed it so well. Had he been particularly unkind or was it just an air that he radiated?

Yet, he couldn't answer her, even through all of his resentment, he couldn't bring himself to tell the child he hated her for killing her mother. And maybe it was because he didn't truly blame the children at all. And it might have been that he set the blame on their shoulders because it was easier than to accept that it was his fault.

Just as he loved Suki, he loved Azula so much. It was because he loved her so much that she was dead.


End file.
